I'll Be Here When You Wake
by Animagus-Steph
Summary: HHr. The trio's seventh year at Hogwarts, starting with some potions... Quidditch and other good stuff follows...canon stops at GoF
1. Ch. 1, The Song of Silence

A/N: I do not own any character in this bit of fic… JK, y'all know of whom I speak, is the mastermind. JK is the goddess of all that is good, and I thank her. I do own the potions mentioned in Chapter 2. Madame Pomfrey uses a similar potion on Our Boy Hero in GoF, but mine is original. Enjoy.  
  
1 I'll Be There When You Wake  
  
2 Chapter I: The Song of Silence  
  
Seventh-year students Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were eating lunch in the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unlike their earlier years at Hogwarts, they ate in silence. Usually, the trio of friends would have some conspiracy or rumor to work out. Most of the time, Ron would be trying to talk Hermione out of the day's homework. No, this year, especially most recently, they ate in silence. They only left each other's sides when it was necessary. Naturally, to sleep, and for Hermione's Arithmancy class while Harry and Ron took Divination. Hermione took Independent Potions Research with Professor Snape, instead of Advanced Potions, like the rest of the Seventh- years.  
  
The Enchanted Ceiling told of a clear fall day. Most of the Great Hall was cheerful, the Slytherin table was particularly happy. Draco Malfoy was yet again impersonating Harry. This time, it was of Harry's reaction to news that he'd received. Malfoy stood up, while Crabbe, pretending to be McGonagall, told Harry that Hagrid and Madame Maxime had disappeared in the Alpine Mountains. Malfoy clutched his heart, totally overexaggerating, and fell to his seat, but missed and hit the floor. What really happened was that McGonagall told Harry, he had to sit down, and that blasted Malfoy pulled the chair out from under him. The Slytherins laughed loudly and for a long time.  
  
"Harry," Hermione asked, "you don't pay attention to them, do you?"  
  
"Ugh! I should hex him six ways to Sunday!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Ron, really, what good would harming a Death Eater's son do anyone?" asked Harry. "No, 'Mione, I don't give Malfoy the satisfaction of wasting my time. I wish I knew 'bout Hagrid, though. It's been ages since we've heard anything."  
  
"I don't know, I think, honestly, that it is part of Dumbledore's plan. Hagrid is more qualified for this kind of work than most of the Ministry."  
  
"Maybe you're right," Harry replied.  
  
They continued to eat in silence. The three had grown so close over the years that the silence didn't bother them. All their fears of Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the Dementors, were better left unvoiced. Ron and Hermione figured that Harry had enough to worry about without them adding to it.  
  
~*^*~  
  
The silence was comforting, in ways. In the library, Harry could count on Hermione's frustrated sighs as she did research for Potions. Harry also found comfort in Ron's sighs of boredom that came about every fifteen minutes. Down at the lake, only the Giant Squid broke the silence by occasionally surfacing and creating waves. This seemed to Harry as the only peaceful place on the grounds.  
  
Other ways, though, the silence left Harry empty. In the mornings, the Great Hall was no longer graced with the arrival of owls. That had been stopped after three Muggle-borns had received cursed letters from Death Eaters. Hermione had received one, but luckily, she was speaking with Flitwick, the owl had only placed it on her seat. The letter proceeded to eat its way through the bench and then the floor. The other students weren't so lucky. One girl, a fourth year, from Hufflepuff, lost her left hand… The other, a second-year boy from Ravenclaw lost the fingers on his right hand… Harry thanked the heavens above everyday that Hermione didn't receive that letter. What would he do without his 'Mione? Oddly enough, no Slytherins received cursed letters.  
  
The silence carried to the Owlery. No students were allowed to send mail, therefore, making Hogwarts completely shut off from any outside contact. The only news they heard was from the Acting Deputy Headmistress.  
  
The worst silence of all was at night. Neville's snores still filled the room, and sometimes Dean would talk in his sleep about football, but Harry slept very little. He found that even if he couldn't avoid the pains in his head, he could avoid some of the bad dreams. His scar throbbed, stung, burned. Sometimes, his whole body writhed in pain. It was second nature to him now. He lay there in the dark, haunted by evil, night after night.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Harry managed to focus somewhat on his classes. Ron knew he suffered during the day, but was oblivious to his best friend at night. Harry figured Ron had enough to worry about without him adding to it. Ron's parents did reconnaissance work for Dumbledore. Bill was busy working on Unforgiveable counter-curses (Or so he had heard. He had heard so little for so long). Charlie was in the United States, keeping an eye on Ginny. She had transferred to a wizarding school there. Her parents wanted her away from everything, because of what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Percy was no help at all. He had never been. The Twins kept watch over the Burrow for their parents. Yes, Harry thought Ron had a lot of worries without assistance.  
  
Hermione recognized the dark circles under Harry's eyes. She had similar ones her third year at Hogwarts. The Time-Turner wouldn't create extra time for sleep. She was reminded of herself that third year by looking at Harry, only he looked much worse. 


	2. Ch. 2, Conversations with Snape

A/N: Ooh! I actually have multiple chapters! I hope you made it this far! Read on…Oh yeah, I forgot… I do not own anything, JK does… She is the goddess of all that is good in the Magical World. God Bless JK!  
  
1 Chapter II: Conversations with Snape  
  
For Hermione, this year was similar to her third year. She took private Potions lessons from Snape, which was less class time, but more work. She did research for McGonagall, the Acting Deputy Headmistress (Dumbledore took frequent leaves of absence). She was not stressed as much as she was in that year, though. Snape ~actually~ lightened up. He wasn't that bad, if you gave him half a chance. Hermione knew he was risking much to help Dumbledore, and therefore, took his bad moods in stride. They talked over a lot of different subjects while standing over cauldrons. One day, they talked about Harry:  
  
"Miss Granger, how is Potter holding up? The faculty had a conference a while ago with Madame Pomfrey. She informed us of Potter's increased head, and even, full body pains. Has she been able to do anything for him?"  
  
"Oh! No, Professor… She can help Harry, but I imagine he told her he wouldn't take medication. Those pains not only tell of danger for others, but they are really indicators of his safety, more than anything else. He's holding up well… Although…"  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger?"  
  
"Well, it is just that I don't think he sleeps much, if at all! I know he'll be needing all of his energy when You-Know-Who finally ~sigh~ catches up with him." She paused. "I worry about him so much, Professor Snape!" She sat down at a lab table and put her head in her hands.  
  
Snape looked at her and was at a loss. He cleared his throat three times before he spoke. "Ah, I am not sure if I know what to say. I can assure you that Vold-Ah, You-Know-Who is off 'someplace else' at the moment." Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Please do not ask me anything further about that matter. I cannot answer your questions, Miss Granger. For your own safety, Potter's and Weasley's." He cleared his throat again. "What I can suggest is two potions. The first is for you. It is called the 'Sleepless Draught.' When taken, it will prohibit sleep but give the recipient the rested feeling."  
  
"But, Professor…"  
  
"The second, Miss Granger, is for Potter. It has the opposite effect of the Sleepless Draught. The 'Schlafen Draught,' developed by a German Potions Master, induces sleep, making it dreamless, and most importantly, incredibly restful."  
  
"Professor, why two potions?"  
  
"I suspect, and I am no expert, that Potter cannot sleep because of his anxiety. If a friend, such as yourself, will stay up while he sleeps, I think he will rest better. I would suggest Weasley, but he has enough problems, without Potter's help. The Schlafen Draught will only work if the recipient can relax."  
  
"When can we start?"  
  
"Right now, if you would like."  
  
So they did. 


	3. Ch. 3, I'm Not Going Anywhere, I Promise...

A/N: Another Chapter! If you can't tell by the end of this, I want JK to write in a H/Hr badly… That is why Ginny is in the USA, where I am sure she will be swept of her feet by some American wizard… mmmh… idea…  
  
Yeah, by the way, I do not own the characters involved (or Joe Boxer), JK Rowling, the goddess of all that is good in wiz-lit, does. I admit, she does a better job than I do, but I want you to enjoy anyway!  
  
1 Chapter III: I'm Not Going Anywhere, I Promise  
  
Hermione had the vials of draught ready and some extra on hand, in case needed. She only hoped that it would help.  
  
Professor McGonagall had asked Hermione to do research on the movements of the Death Eaters. She would have something to do while Harry slept.  
  
She figured there was no time like the present. That night, after Gryffindor had gone to sleep, she came back down to do research. She assumed that it would only be a matter of time until Harry made his way downstairs.  
  
As if on cue, Harry padded down the Boys Dormitory stairs at one o'clock. Hermione heard him enter and turned to face him. She caught her breath. He was barefooted in green-plaid Joe Boxer pajama pants and nothing else. He had, what looked like the remnants of a Dursley gardening tan. He was ~nicely~ built, to put it, well… nicely. He was no longer the short wiry boy Hermione knew when she was eleven. He had grown to a surprising 5'11" (and she suspected he wasn't finished). His shoulders had broadened and were very solid. There was no mistaking the midnight mess of his hair, which stood in every direction. She always knew she loved Harry, for his bravery, selflessness, generosity and honor. He was a great friend—a best friend. Seeing him there, she knew then that she loved ~all~ of him. The firelight danced in his eyes. His glasses were off. He looked very tired.  
  
"'Mione? Is that you?" questioned Harry, his voice groggy with fatigue.  
  
"Yeah, Harry. Come and sit down."  
  
He complied and looked at her work.  
  
"This stuff is for McGonagall. I am reviewing the pattern of You- Know-Who's attacks in the seventies and comparing them to recent reports, trying to see if there is a pattern. If there is, then maybe we can predict where he will strike next!" She exclaimed breathlessly. "It could be a shot in the dark, but it is worth a try."  
  
"Wow, Hermione, too bad my glasses are upstairs. I am sure you'll find a pattern. You're the brightest student Hogwarts has seen for years. You never quit! ~yawn~ That is what always impressed me about you. I know I can count on you. You never quit, 'Mione, never…"  
  
Hermione's heart did a little flutter. She hastily changed the subject. "Harry, honestly! You look like you haven't slept a wink in weeks! I know what it is like! Remember me when I was using the Time- Turner? This isn't good for you, Harry!"  
  
"'Mione, I'm fine. Geez, I just couldn't sleep tonight, that's all, and I got up to walk around. I think, in fact, that I'll go back to bed now."  
  
"Harry, hear me out. I can't help but notice how you seem. You're my best friend! I love you!" She could have slapped herself. What did she just say?  
  
"You-you do?"  
  
She snapped out of it. "Well, of course I do! I care about you! You're my best friends, you and Ron. Ron seems to be sleeping okay. Not you, though."  
  
"Ugh! Hermione, you sound like Madame Pomfrey, McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley rolled into one!"  
  
"Please, Harry, just listen to me. In Potions today, Snape and I brewed two draughts……" Harry's face formed a look of disgust. " He's worried about you too, only he can't show it, Harry! He offered to help, so here it is. We brewed the 'Sleepless Draught' and the 'Schlafen Draught.' One is for rest without sleep, the other is for sleep, dreamless, with complete rest."  
  
"I don't think so, 'Mione. I sleep just fine, thank-you."  
  
"No, you don't. You are lying to me and it hurts. What is it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why don't you sleep?"  
  
He looked very apprehensive. He ran a hand through his hair. Hermione heard mumbling.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"I said, 'I hear screams, I see—people—die, I see my parents—in my dreams."  
  
"Oh, Harry!"  
  
"I choose not to even try sleeping, because then get I keep most of my sanity."  
  
"This will help! The Schlafen Draught gives dreamless sleep. Only in order for it to work, you have to completely relax."  
  
"What is the other for?"  
  
"That? Oh, for me. I'll stay here with you. Snape thinks, and I agree, you'll relax better with someone you trust nearby. You trust me, right, Harry?"  
  
"With my life," he replied. His eyes looked straight into hers, they were a deep, piercing green. He had never looked so serious, despite his bedraggled appearance.  
  
Her breath caught again. "Then, please, trust me with this." She handed him his vial. She opened hers and waited for the same from him.  
  
He uncorked the vial and tipped it back. Hermione followed suit.  
  
"Accio pillow!" Hermione summoned a big down-feather pillow from the corner. "Accio quilt."  
  
She put the pillow in her lap and patted it. Harry looked uncertain.  
  
"Harry, Merlin's Beard! We're friends… Lie down."  
  
He did. He lay there, staring at the ceiling for a few moments and then rolled over. "'Mione?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Please try to relax, that is the only way this will work. You're welcome."  
  
He rolled onto his back. 'Oh, God! His eyes! Curse it, Hermione Granger! This is Harry J. Potter! He's you're best friend! You look at him like a silly fourth-year! Or even worse! One of those silly Muggles, oogling over the, what were they? The 'Back Alley Boys?' Control yourself, 'Mione!' She bit her lip and looked away.  
  
"'Mione, you don't have to be nervous for me! As long as we have each other, we'll be okay! It kills me to see everyone, especially you and Ron, look at me as if you won't be seeing me tomorrow! I'm not going anywhere, I promise."  
  
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione repeated. She started playing with his hair; from time to time her fingers brushed his forehead. "Sometimes, we can't help it. We worry about you ~because~ we care…not to make you worry about us. Please, try to rest."  
  
He was looking at the ceiling again. Hermione sat there, still running her fingers through Harry's thick, raven hair. Her fingers were cool on his face. If he were a cat, Harry would be purring deeply at the moment. He was really enjoying the attention. 'By Merlin! She is so gorgeous! Why didn't I notice before? Natural beauty, too. Right down to her pajamas. (A flannel-tank set, with little pink piggies in pens.) When did her hair get so long? Where have I been, my God! She's been in front of me all this time!'  
  
Hermione's nearly waist-length hair was braided and it lay over her shoulder. Harry reached up and twirled his fingers in the end of the braid (which was more like a thick, honey-brown rope). She smiled down at him.  
  
"Is this magic?" he asked. He was referring to the ringlets between his fingers. "Your hair wasn't like this seven years ago."  
  
"No, just hormones kicking in, I guess." Another thoughtful pause. "Harry?"  
  
"Mmmh?" He was privately enjoying this scalp massage…  
  
"When you said you dreamt of—people—dying, who did you see? Do you know them?"  
  
He was quiet for a long time. Hermione knew she had asked too much, and regretted it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."  
  
"No, that's okay…Really." He looked away from her. "Yeah, I know them."  
  
"Oh," she pried no more. If he wanted to tell her, he would. Harry always did. "You should really try to sleep, Harry."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Oh! Curse it all! Who could he tell? He wanted, more than anything to talk to Hermione and Ron… What was he supposed to do? Tell them that he dreamt of his best friends being tortured by Death Eaters? For information about him? Who was he supposed to tell that he kept seeing 'Mione's lifeless body every time he shut his eyes? How was he supposed to sleep with those horrors floating in his mind? No, he couldn't tell Ron, he was more than quite fond of Hermione. Hagrid was missing. Sirius and Lupin were gone, working against Voldemort, he couldn't bother them even if he wanted to. He couldn't tell Hermione, especially. She would probably brush it off as harmless. Either that or she would go and read up on the Cruciatus Curse and possible ways to avoid it. There had to be some way to protect her… What would he do without his 'Mione? He wasn't sure when he started referring to her as "his," but that is how he felt. What would he do without his Hermione? He nearly died when he saw the other students lose their fingers/hands… Thank God she didn't receive that letter.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.  
  
He smiled at her sadly. "Nothing. You'll stay here all night? Honestly?"  
  
"Of course I will… There's no place I'd rather be. Besides, I've taken the Sleepless Draught. I'll be fine." She placed her hand on his cheek. "I will never leave you, but you must go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." She bent down and kissed his forehead. "Now, go to sleep. Don't waste my hard work." She smiled mischievously.  
  
"Okay." He closed his eyes, and soon, his breathing was deep and regular.  
  
He really was beautiful. He had always been lean… The Durlseys never were generous with feeding him. His leanness, though, became more chiseled over the years. Hermione suspected it was Quidditch, all the sun exposure and wind. Quidditch was also responsible for his shoulders… 'They are beautiful shoulders,' Hermione reflected. They were lightly freckled from the sun, and nicely brown. His forehead still had the legendary scar. It wasn't so jagged and angry looking anymore. That also was complimentary to the entire package. She sat and just reveled in his good looks. It was as if Apollo himself were in her lap.  
  
She looked at the scar again and wept inwardly at all he had, and was going to face.  
  
Oh, how she loved Harry Potter.  
  
Hermione was not a foolish girl. She knew the quiet days of safety at Hogwarts would soon end. She thanked God for this time she had with Harry. The precious little time she had with him. She wanted to grab hold of him and never let go. Instead, she bent down again and kissed his head lightly. As she did, she picked up the almond-scent of his hair.  
  
Oh, how she loved this boy.  
  
Harry smiled in his sleep.  
  
And so, Hermione sat all night. She left her research for some other time. What she did was spend her night with the valiant Harry James Potter in her lap. There was no where else she would rather be. She reveled in this silence.  
  
Oh, how she loved Harry Potter. 


	4. Ch. 4, Dream a Little Dream of Me

A/N: I would like to thank those who reviewed for me. I didn't know that I was waiting for a certain amount, but, subconsciously, I think I was. Um, here are a few more chapters. I hope that you like them. Please remember, it only takes a minute to review. I can use all the help I can get. Please review.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything involved in this chapter. The characters involved belong to the goddess of all that is good, JK Rowling. I love her. Honestly. (Sounds sick, does it not?) Her genius and talent inspired this story. God Bless JK.  
  
Chapter Four: Dream a Little Dream of Me.  
  
It wasn't as late as Hermione thought. Harry had been asleep about ten minutes. She checked her watch. 1.40 am. He would be able to get about six hours of sleep. 'Which is probably more than he's had all week,' Hermione thought. Most of the Tower started waking up at 7 am, and she thought that, though it killed her, she should wake Harry earlier. She wondered what the Tower would think if they saw Harry and herself curled up in front of the fireplace, quilt and all. She smiled at this and started to blush. It was ~definitely~ a good idea for Harry to be in his dormitory before everyone else awoke. If Lavender and Parvati saw that she wasn't in bed, and they talked with Ron or Neville… What would they say? "The Head Boy and Girl are up to no good…" There would be much eyebrow waggling.  
  
She could just see what Malfoy would do if some rumor like that got out. She never paid attention to the nasty things he said to her. Lately, she'd noticed (although, if she were paying attention, she would have seen it much sooner) that Harry gets very upset anytime Malfoy insults her. Of course, Head Boy cannot be openly vengeful, so Harry would get Malfoy back when no one was looking. If Malfoy said anything, it was his word against the Head Boy's. Everyone knew that they tormented each other, so no one took notice.  
  
Yes… Harry had become much more defensive toward Hermione's good name.  
  
She went scarlet again at the thought of what some people would say they were up to.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Somewhere in the Tower, a clock struck two. Hermione shook herself out of the trance she was in. She was there staring at the flames, with Harry in her lap. What had she been doing? Oh, yes. This was very unlike our practical Hermione. She had been daydreaming (or is it night- dreaming?) about Harry. She'd never really done that about anyone before. There she was, watching him sleep and all of the sudden, she was walking around the lake, holding hands with him. They were having a wonderful time. They came to a bench in the shade and sat down. Then, they were talking, oh, they were so close, just about to…#DONG-DONG#. Two o'clock. Damn. Damn.  
  
'Can't let that go on again, 'Mione. What were you thinking of? Very third-year of yourself,' she inwardly scolded.  
  
Nevertheless, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him. To hold him. Not like the almost-brother-sister-relationship that was evident on the surface. What Hermione wanted, more than anything, was to be more than that to Harry. She wanted him to need her.  
  
Of course, she had kissed other boys and knew what it was like. Ironically, the first boy she had kissed was Harry. The summer following the Tri-Wizard Tournament, as they left the Hogwarts Express, Hermione kissed him on the cheek. If that even counted. Viktor had kissed her a few times. That was uneventful. For such an exciting guy on the Quidditch field, he was a dull kisser. Last summer, Hermione dated a Muggle boy named Jeremy. He was very nice and liked her a lot, but he wasn't what she was looking for. She ended up just dating him for fun, which was very unlike herself. She ~really~ enjoyed their snog-fests, and found them to be quite ~interesting.~ She didn't remember why, but she suddenly decided that they couldn't work. (It was really a letter from Harry, just a "Hello, How're you?" letter, but it snapped her out of that fling faster than Filibuster Fireworks.)  
  
Yes, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Probably, he'd be really nervous, really shy. Just the thought flushed Hermione with pleasure. She wondered if he would loosen up as they went along… Mmmmh…  
  
'Hermione! What're you doing?' She yelled at herself. 'Cut it out! You're no better than his fan club! Cut it out!'  
  
Outraged at herself, she Summoned the research for McGonagall. She went to work, trying to ignore another feeling. That nagging voice that kept telling her, "Harry just sees you as a friend, Hermione. A friend. Don't forget, associating yourself with him puts him in danger! Don't make it worse for him, and don't embarrass yourself by falling all over someone who is not interested!"  
  
With that, she got to work. 


	5. Ch. 5, Hermione Miscalculates

A/N: I do not own the characters involved, although the potion discussed is my own. JK Rowling does own Prof. Snape, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. I own nothing, just the plot…… if there is one. I hope I get to it some day. By the way, thank-you for your reviews, you are very encouraging. God Bless JK.  
  
1 Chapter Five: Hermione Miscalculates  
  
Most of the research for McGonagall was just plotting points on a map of Europe and placing the ones responsible names next to it. She drew little arrows from attack to attack, ones including Voldemort directly flashed red. Those with Muggle deaths, blue. Slowly, the map started to fill.  
  
Plotting points is tedious work, definitely not enough to keep her mind occupied, so it wandered. She thought back to her Potions lesson with Snape, when they had made the Draughts to help Harry.  
  
"Remember, Miss Granger, that Nectar of Lotus is very potent. Just the smell knocked out Odysseus and his crew in the Odyssey. It is always preferable, if one cannot be accurate, to be under-accurate than overly so," Professor Snape informed Hermione.  
  
"Why is that, isn't precision most desired? If someone over- measures, can't they just start over again?"  
  
"Sadly, with this, no. Lotus flowers are, like everything else in this world that is needed in abundance, very rare. The nectar from the flower, once procured, is either used or wasted. Storing it in a container causes it to lose its potency. You are correct, however. The precision is very necessary for this particular potion to work. Too little, and the dreamless effect is lost. Too much, and the recipient risks coma."  
  
"Oh, goodness."  
  
Of course, this made Hermione quite nervous. She wouldn't be testing on an animal, like Trevor, she'd be testing it on Harry. What made it worse was the actual procurement of the nectar. The Lotus is very fragile. Shaking hands make for heavy work. Hermione would have asked Snape to do that part for her, but he excused himself because he received an owl. (Teachers were allowed Owl Post.)  
  
Oh, Merlin, this was nerve wracking. She just needed eight drops. Five-drop-Six-drop-Sev-. Snape re-entered the room.  
  
"Miss Granger, I am afraid that I have to cut my instruction short. I am needed elsewhere at the moment. I trust you'll finish the Schlafen Draught superbly, just as the Sleepless Draught was done. Oh, I see you've finished with the Lotus. Please use caution when storing the flower. I am sorry to leave, but I trust that this is in good hands."  
  
"Of course, thank-you, Professor."  
  
"You're welcome, Miss Granger. Be sure to shut the door when you leave."  
  
Then he was gone. Hermione pondered what he was up to for a few moments and then continued with her work.  
  
'Add the eight drops of Nectar of Lotus, constantly stirring. The potion will turn a transparent blue.' She added what she thought was eight, but only six. (The potion would turn blue with one drop of nectar.) She finished the potion, shut the door when she left, and went to dinner. 


	6. Ch. 6, Three O'Clock , All is not well.....

A/N: Chapter six is up! I hope you enjoy! Please review… I know how annoying that can be, but how will I ever know I am doing this right? What if I am totally screwing it up? How will I ever know, unless you tell me?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters involved, JK Rowling does. She is the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic. Bless JK!  
  
1 Chapter Six: Three O'clock, All is not Well  
  
She continued with her work. #DONG-DONG-DONG# Three o'clock. She had a few more years to get through before she'd be finished. She flipped ahead to the last date of Voldemort's attacks. 'October 31, 1981. Halloween, Godric's Hollow. Two wizard deaths.' She prayed she'd find a connection.  
  
Harry stirred. He'd had over an hour of sleep, but didn't look at all rested. In fact, he looked quite the opposite. His brow was furled and his face was contorted as if he were in deep concentration.  
  
Hermione noticed not, and continued. 'April 7, 1976. Lladudno, Wales. Two Muggle deaths. Parents of wizard Simon McFurternick.' 'June 17, 1976, Pescara, Italy. Dark Mark, no deaths.' Was there a pattern to the randomness?  
  
Again, Harry stirred. His face was now almost that of fear and horror.  
  
'June 18, 1976. Auxerre, France. Again, the Dark Mark. Evidence of Memory Charmed Muggles.' How odd, Hermione thought. 'July 1, 1976. Chicopee, Massachusetts, USA. One wizard dead. Unfg. Crs.' Very odd indeed.  
  
"Ron! Hermione! Hermione, NO!" Harry was shouting. Kicking everywhere, he knocked Hermione's work, some of it landed in the fireplace.  
  
"Harry, Harry! Wake up! Wake up!" She was shaking him. "Wake up, Harry!"  
  
Harry stood, started searching in front of him, most likely still asleep, still confused on where he was. "'Mione? 'Mione!!!"  
  
"Harry, Harry, I'm here." She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around. "Wake up!"  
  
He turned to her and blinked his eyes twice. Recognition and a great look of relief swept over his face. He fell to his knees. "Oh, God! I thought you'd gone! I thought I'd lost you! You're here!" She came down to his level and hugged him. He buried his face in her neck and hair. Was he crying? He rocked her back and forth, repeating quietly, "You're still here, you're still here."  
  
"Harry," she said softly, "of course I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere." She patted him on the back, like she would comfort a small child.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Of course."  
  
He stopped rocking her. If he was crying, he stopped that too.  
  
"Harry, I'll never leave you. You can count on me." She paused and pulled away from him. A realization came to her. "Oh, no! You can't! I messed up the potion! How could I? Oh, Harry, I am so sorry! I must have left something out. Oh, God!" She started crying. Why did she have to fail him? He was ~always~ there for her, and she couldn't even help him rest. "I'm so sorry, Harry. You're always there for me and I can't even get a potion right for you!" She got up and walked to the fireplace.  
  
"Hermione, please don't cry." He got up and stood behind her. "How many of my other friends would have bothered? Honestly, 'Mione, it is a miracle that I slept at all." He turned her towards him. "Really." She stood staring at her feet. "'Mione, look at me, please."  
  
She turned her face towards his, her eyes, like fresh cinnamon, were full of tears.  
  
Harry looked down at his 'Mione and saw her heart breaking. A silent tear slid down her smooth cheek. Harry reached up and wiped it away with his thumb. She turned away again. He could love this girl forever. She was so caring, so courageous, so honest, so pure. "Hermione," Harry said, his voice unusually husky. He turned her face up to his again.  
  
"Please, stop. Don't look at me like that."  
  
"Hermione, don't cry."  
  
She looked up into his kind green eyes. There was a look in them that she'd never seen before. With fresh tears on her cheeks, she exclaimed, "Oh, Harry! I am so sorry!" With that, she flung her arms around his neck and held him tight.  
  
He slowly put his arms around her, and now it was his turn to do the child-like comforting. He patted her and shushed her. He kissed her forehead and the top of her hair. It smelled like, was it apples? Whatever it was, it smelled good. "It's okay. I never asked for perfection. You've done more for me tonight than Madame Pomfrey has ever done."  
  
Hermione knew better. "Oh, Harry, don't kid yourself," she sighed and pulled away. "Look at me, what a mess! Give me a minute, I'll be back down." With that, she turned up the stairs to the Girls Dormitory.  
  
He watched her walk up the stairs, then turned to face the rest of the room. The pillow he was using managed to get torn open and there were goose feathers all over the place. He cleaned those up with a flick of Hermione's wand and Summoned another one. Then he went to pick up Hermione's research. That couldn't have been all of it. He needed his glasses for reading and close work, but it looked to him that she hadn't gotten much done. There was just a book and a sheet of parchment with what he thought were dates on it. He collected those and put them down on an end table. He sat down again on the couch.  
  
What was it he dreamt? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. Ron, Harry and Hermione were in a field. Suddenly, Harry was bound with ropes to a tree that appeared out of no where. Ron and Hermione were thrown into the sky. Death Eaters and Voldemort Apparated to the scene.  
  
"The time has come, Mr. Potter, for you to choose your real friend. The Mudblood, or the Mudblood lover? Your choice, every second you waste is another eternity they suffer." Voldemort's cruel voice still rang in Harry's ears. "Who will it be? Weasley? Always second best. Always playing second fiddle to you. He's secretly jealous. What a friend, Potter! Can't handle the truth that he'll never be you. He runs around with his head in the sand. A real friend?"  
  
Harry concentrated on his wand which lay on the ground and getting loose. If he could put Dudley in a snake cage, he could get himself out of Conjured ropes.  
  
"Or maybe, Potter, this nasty little Mudblood."  
  
Harry's head snapped up to Hermione.  
  
"Yes, you love her, don't you? This filth here before us? Get serious, Potter! Or maybe you are. Perhaps bad taste runs in the family. Your father just had to have that dirty Mudblood Evans! Just like him, Potter! You'll die just like him, too, but without your Mudblood. ^Crucio!^ ^Crucio!^" Voldemort pointed his wand at the two suspended in air. They screamed and trembled with pain.  
  
"Ron! Hermione!" Harry yelled.  
  
"Enough! Who shall it be? The one who would love to be you, or the one who would love to be yours?"  
  
"You know very well that I can't decide." Harry was still trying to get out of the ropes.  
  
"Very well. I will choose. ^Avada Kedavra!^" To Harry's horror, the wand was pointed at Hermione.  
  
There was a brilliant green flash of light. "Hermione, NO!" She fell to the ground, the Harry broke from his ropes. "'Mione? 'Mione!!!"  
  
And then Hermione was shaking him awake. She was still there. She was still there. 


	7. Ch. 7, Our Drum Beats out of Time

A/N: Did you like the last chapter? I hope so… That was the hardest to write. I ask you, after this chapter to please review. I hate asking that of people. It helps me. There is no better satisfaction than seeing your story praised. Even if it is flamed, though, that's okay. It is still a review.  
  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and the gang. I do not. (Wailing in the background.) The 'lullaby' featured is originally by Cyndi Lauper. I fell in love with the matchbox twenty version. I, animagus- steph, covered the form of it you see. Oh, yeah, if you want to check out the tune, it is called Time After Time. I love JK!  
  
1 Chapter Seven: Our Drum Beats out of Time  
  
Hermione came downstairs, her hair freshly braided. She looked refreshed and felt better.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"So, Harry," Hermione sat down next to him, "I was thinking upstairs that we probably shouldn't use the other vial of the Schlafen Draught."  
  
"You had a back up? Anyway, I have a question. Why didn't we both just use what you took? They both give rest, don't they?"  
  
"Yes. The one you took give complete rest, when brewed correctly." Hermione added bitterly. "The one I took will just keep me from being exhausted in the morning. I'll talk with Snape and see what can be done to fix it. It would be a shame to waste some of the ingredients involved."  
  
"You're right. I was wondering, though, if maybe we could try the sleeping thing again anyway……… You know, without the potion."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
"Well, maybe Snape is right. Maybe it is just anxiety, and all I need is you," Harry paused only a fraction of a moment, but it made Hermione's heart stop, "a friend," Harry continued, "to be with me. Will you stay?"  
  
"Do you think that this is a good idea?" Asked an apprehensive Hermione.  
  
"The best I've heard all night." His green eyes were teasing her. Was that twinkling or firelight?  
  
"Okay."  
  
Harry sacked Hermione with the pillow then tossed it on her lap and pulled the quilt over his chest. "I'm ready. Now, I need a lullaby or a story. Preferably, both." More teasing. His eyes were tempting Hermione in the worst way.  
  
"Harry, honestly! I can think of no greater torture for you than to subject you to my singing. I don't know any stories."  
  
"'Mione, did your mum ever sing to you?"  
  
"Yeah, she did, until I left for Hogwarts. Now I'm not really around for her to do so anymore."  
  
"Then just sing to me what she used to sing to you. And, 'Mione, I'll have you know, I 'have' experienced real torture. I think I can handle your voice. I don't know how long it has been since I've had a lullaby, either. Probably sixteen years." Hermione looked very ashamed of herself. "Aww, 'Mione, it is all in good sport. Just sing it. I'll still be your friend after you've finished."  
  
"Okay, give me a minute to remember." 'What was it that Mum used to sing to me? It wasn't a lullaby. Mmmm-mm-Mmm-mmm-Mmmm. Yeah, that's it. I should change the wording, though.' "Are you sure, Harry?" She started nervously twirling a loose strand of hair. He looked up, expectantly. "This isn't a real lullaby, it is just what my mum would sing. Okay?" She cleared her throat and began. She had a soft, little voice, as sweet as she really was.  
  
"Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you. Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new. Flashbacks, school nights, almost left behind. Trunk full of memories. Time after—  
  
"Sometimes, I picture you, you're walking too far ahead. You're calling back to me; I can't hear what you've said. Then you say, 'I'll go slow.' You're by my side. Our second hand unwinds.  
  
"If you're lost you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you; I'll be waiting. Time after time."  
  
As Hermione repeated the last two lines of the chorus, Harry knew then that he loved her. He watched her, she was still twirling her hair and looking at the ceiling. She was so nervous. She was so precious.  
  
"After my picture fades, and darkness has turned to gray, watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay. Secrets are stolen from deep down inside.  
  
"Our drum beats out of time."  
  
Hermione went on with the chorus. She 'was' perfect, and he loved her. That was the worst thing she had going for her was him. His association with her was detrimental to her well being. He couldn't take it if Voldemort found out. He must never know. She must never know, until Voldemort was dead. He couldn't risk her.  
  
He wondered what it would be like to kiss her. He'd never kissed a girl before, unless you count Fifth-year, with Cho. That was uneventful. She was just popularity; there wasn't much to her heart. Fleur Delacour had been Harry's first…but a kiss from a part veela is enough to make anyone's ears have steam come out of them. Hermione would probably be nervous and quite shy. He had a feeling though, that she would loosen up. She had a surprisingly flirtatious side. Yes, what would it be like to kiss her?  
  
"You said, we'll go slow. I'm by your side. Our second hand unwinds.  
  
"If you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you; I'll be waiting. Time after time.  
  
"Time after time. (Harry mouthed the words with her.) Time after time. Time after time. It will be okay."  
  
She looked timidly down at him, waiting for approval. "Well, do you still need a story?" she asked.  
  
"No, 'Mione," he smiled. "That was perfect. I can sleep, 'cause, 'you're by my side.'" Harry saw the horrified look on her face. "I liked it. Honestly. I was only teasing you." He rolled over and faced the fireplace. "Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
"Goodnight, Harry."  
  
'Sweet dreams,' Harry said to himself.  
  
Hermione sighed and started playing with his hair.  
  
Oh, how he loved this girl.  
  
He closed his eyes and slept the rest of the night. She was the only magic he needed.  
  
Hermione, as she promised, was there when he woke.  
  
~*^*~  
  
A/T: (Author's thanks): ObiwanKatie: Yes, you are correct, I went back and changed 'Mme' to Madame. That was FRE 101 getting to me. Thor: Very correct about Aphrodite. I meant Apollo, b/c he was the most beautiful male god. I imagine Harry to be like him. (From what I learned, Apollo is raven-haired as well. To NAPPA: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for being so cool of a reviewer. Thank you. Also, to the rest of you who reviewed… Thanks for your encouragement, you are so great. 


	8. Ch. 8, Trelawney's Trance

A/N: Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews… You guys are too wonderful. I hope that you like this next chapter. Yes, here is my disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that were created by JK Rowling, the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic. I love JK. She is enough for me. Also, here is where I write my congratulations to her recent marriage. Congratulations! One last thing. Thanks, Lynz, you know who you are. You've been a great supporter of me and my fic, even if it is not your usual genre. I love you, but not like I love JK. I hope you understand. And to Tobey Maguire, the Spider-Man of my heart, you know I love you, not like I love Lynz, not like I love JK. I love you in a very ~special~ way. I know you understand. On with the story.  
  
Chapter Eight: Trelawney's Trance  
  
Harry and Hermione kept up with their "slumber parties" until about two weeks into October. She had enough of the Sleepless Draught made to last that long and was going to brew more, but Harry wouldn't let her. They were walking down the hallway together, Ron had been pulled aside by Filch, and he told them to go along without him.  
  
"Hermione, I don't see a reason for you to go back and brew more. I've gotten to the point where I can get to sleep without any trouble. There really is no need for it."  
  
Hermione didn't agree and was about to protest but Harry beat her to it. "No, 'Mione, I said no. I sleep through Professor Trelawney's class all the time. You know we can't stop the dreams. There's nothing that can be done."  
  
"But, Harry…"  
  
"Hermione, look in the mirror! Staying up for three weeks in a row has not done much to help you. Sure, you say you're fine, and you are, but you need to get real rest and off that Draught before you build up a serious resistance to it. I can tell it is starting to lose it's potency. Even you are yawning in History of Magic."  
  
He had a point, he always did. She had been awake at least four hundred fifty hours. That, even for Hermione, was extraordinary. She was handling it quite well, too, except for the last few days. She had started being a little harsher when deducting points from Houses. It was out of her character to be so petty. She'd given up so much for him, he couldn't, in good conscience, let it go on.  
  
"Yes, Harry, of course you're right. I'll go to bed tonight, but if you have problems sleeping again, let me know. It's not a problem for me to brew more potion. I'd almost say that I've quite enjoyed it." She had, but wasn't going to tell him about it. "I'm going to have the best grades this term, for all the extra work I've gotten done."  
  
"That's my girl." Harry put his arm around her shoulder. "You have no idea how grateful to you I am for this. I haven't felt this good in ages. And, 'Mione, you would have the best grades in the year without all the extra studying."  
  
"Oh, Harry," she said, blushing at his compliment and the fact that he had his arm around her as they were walking down the corridor, "You know Ron and I would do anything for you. That's why he's caught up with Filch. He took the blame for ~your~ dung bombs. Now, if that isn't true friendship, I don't know what is."  
  
~*^*~  
  
That was a few days ago. Harry and Ron had dropped dung bombs on Malfoy and his goons from a balcony overlooking the entrance hall. They had been under the Invisibility Cloak, but Ron became uncovered, and eventually caught by Filch. He served the detention happily, though. Hermione and Harry kept him company while under the Cloak and helped him polish every spindle on every banister in Hogwarts. There are one hundred forty-seven staircases, one hundred forty-seven plus banisters. It took them until midnight, but would have taken Ron at least till dawn by himself. Luckily, Hermione knew a fancy little charm to help Harry and herself along. Of course, Ron wasn't allowed to use magic.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Now in Divination, Ron was busying himself with snuffing the candles in the room out one by one with his wand. Harry and Ron found the looks on Parvati's, Lavender's and Trelawney's faces most hilarious. Of course, Professor Trelawney felt differently.  
  
"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley! What is so funny? The snuffed candles are so obviously a sign of a presence in my tower, disturbed or perturbed, I know not," she said in her mistiest voice to date. "You boys are spoiling the positive aura I have tried to keep in this room. Now stop that silly nonsense!" The misty voice had disappeared.  
  
"Oh, Professor! Would it be possible to communicate with this presence?" Lavender Brown was asking in hushed excitement.  
  
"Yeah, it's right here in my wand, Lav," Ron said under his breath. Seamus, Dean and Harry shook with silent laughter.  
  
"It will be difficult, my dear. We will all have to concentrate on the matter at hand," she said sternly, looking at the boys in the back corner.  
  
Ron and Harry figured they ought to cut it out, so they quieted down. Professor Trelawney went on about going into and putting people into trances, so that spirits could speak through them. She would pick a student to demonstrate on, put him or her under, then awaken the subject and interpret what had taken place.  
  
"I bet my broomstick she'll pick me to go first," Harry said. Professor Trelawney had a way of making Harry her guinea pig.  
  
"No way, I'd definitely lose on that one."  
  
"Mr. Potter, dear, why don't I demonstrate on you?" Harry shook his head. "Come along to the front here, dear. Yes, that's it. Now, I'll just ask you to focus on my eyes while I perform the spell."  
  
Harry most assuredly DID NOT want to be subjected to this, especially in front of the whole class. Who knew what he'd say while in a trance? He could get a lot of people into a lot of trouble. What if someone asked him about Hermione? He had no idea what he would say while in a completely normal state, much less while under a trance. What went on in his head was nobody's business. He had to think quickly… What counter-spell was there? Ah, yes, thanks to DADA, he knew how to deflect tiny spells like the one she was going to perform on him. "Reflectivo!" He said ever so softly.  
  
Professor Trelawney's eyes glazed over as she put herself into a trance.  
  
"Professor!" Parvati squealed. Lavender was quickly paging through her 'Advanced Techniques to Unfogging the Future' book. "There must be something that cam be done."  
  
The class started to get noisy. Ron, Seamus and Dean looked as if they had been given an extra holiday.  
  
Professor Trelawney sat up rigidly. "SILENCE!" The class was shocked speechless by the harsh voice Harry recognized from his Divination final four years ago. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, then her head fell like a limp noodle to her chest.  
  
"Maybe we ought to ask her what she sees," Parvati suggested apprehensively. "Professor, what can you tell us?"  
  
Again, her head snapped up, her body rigid. Her mouth hung open and she looked quite possessed. The harsh voice spoke:  
  
"THE DARK LORD LIES IN YOUR DREAMS. HE TEMPTS DEPTHS OF YOUR HEART, AND QUESTIONS THE TRUTH IN YOUR SOUL. WITH THOSE FROM WHOM YOU SEEK YOUR REST, YOU FIND A TRUTH. THE BLACKNESS OF THE DARK LORD WILL MAKE YOU WRONGLY DOUBT WHERE YOUR LOYALTIES LIE. GO WITH THE TRUTH YOU TRUST WITH YOUR HEART. DO NOT DOUBT THOSE WHO HAVE PROVEN THEMSELVES WORTHY."  
  
Again, her head slouched forward, the class was in total shock. Harry didn't believe his ears. "~THE DARK LORD LIES IN YOUR DREAMS.~" What did that mean? He needed to get out of there.  
  
"I found it! The counter to the Stunning Spell works too! ~Ennervate!~" Lavender looked very pleased with herself.  
  
Professor Trelawney's eyes focused back into place as she sat up properly. "Looks like we should try that again, dear." She got ready to repeat, but the class started shouting at her all at once. Parvati was very adamant about telling her what happened.  
  
"The spell bounced off Harry and hit you, Professor!" Lavender proceeded to tell her what revelation her trance had brought.  
  
"I did that? Come, come now children, stop this nonsense." Trelawney did not look convinced at her own words. "Class dismissed."  
  
The class left the Divination tower with swift feet and swifter whispers. "What could she mean?" "Did you see her eyes? Hear that voice?" "You- Know-Who? She can't have meant You-Know-Who…" "Was she talking to Harry?" 'I don't know' was the only answer any of them had.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Ron and Harry headed for the Common Room without a word. They went for a quiet corner and sat down.  
  
"Let's wait for Hermione to get out of Arithmancy," Harry said before Ron could get a word out. "I don't want to keep reliving this."  
  
So the pulled out Ron's chess board and played, neither really paying attention to the game, until they saw Hermione come through the portrait hole.  
  
"Ron, Harry, what's wrong?" She immediately asked when she saw their faces.  
  
Ron filled her in on the events of Divination. She had an odd look of graveness and skepticism on her face after he had finished.  
  
"The Dark Lord lies on your dreams… Hmm…" She paused. "Here's what I don't understand, Harry. How did the trance end up on Professor Trelawney?"  
  
Harry looked sheepish. "I couldn't stand another minute of that old bat telling me that I was 'in danger'" He said that last bit in his misty-I'm- Trelawney-a.k.a.-full-of-it-voice. "So, I whispered a simple spell reflector, 'Reflectivo'…I had no idea that it would work."  
  
Ron laughed at this and then stopped at Hermione's glare. "Harry, its about time she got a bit of her own back. Didn't you see the look on her face when Parvati told her what happened? She was surprised at the idea that she might night be a fraud after all. That was priceless!"  
  
"I suppose that's true. She looked like she was worried, too."  
  
"But still, 'Lies in your dreams…' Like lying down or lying to you? Does You-Know-Who, well, I guess…" Hermione trailed off.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Does You-Know-Who tell you anything when you dream about him?"  
  
"I haven't dreamt about Voldemort in a few weeks."  
  
Ron cringed at the name. "What?!? You've dreamt about him? Why didn't you say anything to me?" He looked back and forth from Harry to Hermione.  
  
"I felt no pain in my scar. It was just a nightmare. I still do have pains in my head, you know, a lot, but no dreams about Voldemort."  
  
Ron flinched again. "What was the dream about?" He looked at Hermione quizzically. She shrugged as if to say 'Like I know.'  
  
"I-I don't remember. That was near the start of the term and all."  
  
"Harry," Ron said firmly.  
  
"Ron."  
  
"Harry, come on. We know better."  
  
"Ron, would I lie?"  
  
"Yes, yes, you would lie, Harry. I do believe so."  
  
Harry looked away. "I don't remember, Ron. Cut it out."  
  
"Well, what about the rest of what she said?" Hermione asked, trying to cut the tension. "I think it was positive, 'With those whom with you find rest, you find a truth.'" Harry started to go red and looked away. Hermione just realized what the meaning of that could be and quickly added: "What else was there, Ron?"  
  
He didn't notice their uncomfortableness. "Er, 'The blackness of the Dark Lord will make you doubt where your loyalties lie.' That goes with the first thing, right? 'He lies in your dreams.' So don't believe him, Harry."  
  
It sounds like he'd try to get you to do something rash, without thinking it through," she reasoned. "What else?"  
  
"'Go with the truth you trust with your heart. Do not doubt those who have proven themselves worthy.'"  
  
"So there, Harry. Just go with the tried and true. Don't let You-Know-Who mess with your head. You're better than that, don't let him tell you what to think. He's only out to get you. You'll have to be careful."  
  
"I am careful, 'Mione… But, do you think I can believe her? She is such a phony."  
  
"She was right Third year, Harry. About Wormtail, remember?" Harry's red- headed friend reminded him.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, I suggest not worrying about it. You guys have enough to worry about anyway… Isn't the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match this weekend?" Hermione said.  
  
Both Harry and Ron gaped at her with wide eyes. "I'm kidding! How could I forget about Quidditch?" They still glared. "I was kidding, guys! Really! Besides, you all could probably win against them with one eye closed and one hand tied behind your backs. Honestly! MALFOY is Slytherin Captain! And, we're due in Herbology. Let's get a move on."  
  
With Professor Trelawney's trance forgotten, they left for the greenhouses with lighter hearts. 


	9. Ch. 9, Quidditch and Lightning

A/N: Here is chapter nine… I know that you were waiting for it for like 2 months, and I am sorry. Truth is, I had written this at the same time that I had Eight, but guys, I am SO glad that I waited. I had an epiphany the other night, so this chapter is a million times better than it would have been. I am so sorry.  
  
In addition, Quidditch isn't my forté, so please be kind to me. This is an opportunity for me to rip on Malfoy, the pale pansy. Sorry if you happen to like him. I pity you. ;)  
  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling, the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic owns Harry Potter. God Bless JK, and please, hurry with OOP!  
  
Chapter Nine: Quidditch and Lightning  
  
The rest of the week went smoothly. Hermione had recovered from her lack of quality sleep and Ron and Harry kept busy practicing on the Quidditch Pitch. Their fifth year, the Twins were co-captains of the House team. Ron tried out for Wood's position as Keeper and he got it. Fred and George may have joked around quite a bit, but when you got down to it, Quidditch was incredibly important to them. Ron ended up working extremely hard for the position. The Twins really made him earn it. Harry 'talked' with them about their attitude about their 'Ickle Ronnikins,' in all honesty, he was sick of it. When Ron did try out, he performed beautifully. In the first season he was on the team, he beat Wood's record for lost goals by two.  
  
This year, with Harry as Captain, they had an excellent team. With three girl Chasers again, one Alicia's sister, Amy Spinnet, their offense was nearly invincible. To replace the Twins, Harry chose Dennis Creevey, who was much stockier and less annoying than Colin, and fifth-year Telemachus Clearwater, Penelope's brother. Harry felt as if they had inherited a lot of talent. It seemed to run in Ron's family and the Spinnets seemed to have a similar trait as well.  
  
For Harry, Quidditch had its definite advantages. He concentrated so hard on practices and game plans, defense and offense, the he was often so tired by the time it got around to sleeping, it was an easier task. He suspected, deep down inside, that he could've fallen asleep, no problem, without Hermione, but he liked to think that someone, scratch that, that ~she~ was there. She made him feel less alone. It probably wasn't right to lead her on like that, but he nearly couldn't help himself.  
  
~*^*~  
  
"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch called out. The crowd started cheering, they knew they were in for a treat. "On my signal!" She sounded the silver whistle and let the four balls into the air. Harry and thirteen others rose to the sky. He saw the Snitch for a second, and then it was gone. As he rose above the game to keep an eye out for it Malfoy, the Slytherin Captain, rose too.  
  
"Still up to your old tricks, Malfoy?" Harry called over the roar of the crowd.  
  
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Potty."  
  
'We'll see about that,' Harry thought. He circled around looking for the Golden Snitch, Malfoy keeping close by. Harry looked at the scoreboard: Gryffindor: 30, Slytherin: 0. "Keep it up, girls!" Harry yelled.  
  
The Slytherin team really was no match for the Gryffindor Chasers and Beaters. Ron, unfortunately, rarely had anything to do at all. Sometimes, he'd have to block a foul shot, but that was rare too.  
  
The score was up 50-0. Harry thought that it was time to test Malfoy's copying skills. He dove towards the ground and the crowd fell silent. Malfoy followed at his tail. Harry's upgraded Firebolt was too much of a match for whatever sad little broom Malfoy flew. (He suspected that Lucius Malfoy couldn't get anything better for his son, so he had to suffer with second best. [A/N: Nya-nya, nya-nya-nya!!] They had yet to come out with something better than the Firebolt, version 2.0) Harry came out of the dive and circled Gryffindor's stands. Malfoy, in the mean time, had plowed into the ground, Harry saw him spit out some dirt. [A/N: Nya-nya, nya-nya-nya!!] No matter, it was time to find that Snitch. Malfoy recovered and finally stopped shadowing Harry.  
  
The score jumped ten points. Amy Spinnet had taken a shot and made it. 60- 0. The Slytherins were then in possession of the Quaffle. As their Chaser, Elroy Sullivan, headed for Gryffindor's goal posts, Ron went to defend. One of Slytherin's Beaters, Tyson Robbins, was blagging him, that is, grabbing an opponent's broom end to make him or her slow down. Slytherin scored, 60-10.  
  
The crowd screamed for a foul, but Madam Hooch was busy slowing a Bludger headed for Gryffindor's stands. Lisette Jordan was calling for a bumphing foul (intentionally hitting a Bludger into the bleachers to distract the referee). "Those Beaters are no good slimy CHEATERS!! DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!" She went on, but to reiterate is unnecessary.  
  
"Miss Jordan, don't make ME come over THERE!"  
  
"Okay! Okay! Sorry, Professor!"  
  
Both fouls were ignored, not purposely, Madam Hooch disliked refereeing the Slytherin matches, they made her job harder.  
  
"Harry, get around to catching that Snitch, will you?" Creevey called to him as he flew by, knocking a Bludger to the opposing end.  
  
Then, Harry saw it. It was right above the Slytherin goal post, on the southern side. Harry was patrolling the ground at the time and darted for it. Malfoy, who was nursing a bruised ego as well as a bruised behind, had no idea what was going on. You could feel the silence as the crowd held its breath. Harry came from underneath, soaring towards the top of the highest post, with dark clouds rolling over the castle. He caught the Golden Snitch, looking like he was born to do that sort of thing all his life. He leveled off, and the crowd stormed the field.  
  
"Gryffindor wins! 210-10!" Madam Hooch called the game.  
  
Harry was finishing the team's victory laps around the Pitch; most of the bleachers were empty. As he hovered above the stands, his head exploded with such pain he'd experienced only once before, after the Third Task. His scar was ablaze, itching, searing, and throbbing with intense sensation. He dropped the stilled Snitch as he clutched his head, glasses falling away. He saw a flash of children in robes fleeing a large building and the Dark Mark overhead. Then the Seeker passed out as it started to storm, falling sixty feet at lighting speed to the wooden bleachers below.  
  
A/T: Egon-Starcollector: Thanks for listening to my odd dream! You help with every email! Lynz: Thanks for letting me bore you with "prospective chapters!" 


	10. Ch. 10, The Salem Witchcraft Institute

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed Chapter Nine… I hope that I got this up quick enough, compared to my past endeavors. Acronyms will be asterisked * to the end of the chapter to reduce unnecessary wording.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associated characters, places and miscellaneous things are property of Joanne Kathleen Rowling. JK is the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic. God Bless JK.  
  
Chapter Ten: The Salem Witchcraft Institute  
  
~Then the Seeker passed out as it started to storm, falling sixty feet at lighting speed to the wooden bleachers below.~  
  
Rain pouring down to the field, a few girls screamed as they saw Harry Potter hit the top of the bleachers at near break-neck speed. His body started to roll down the risers. Most people too stunned to react, one unsuspecting student stepped in: "Impedimenta!"  
  
Harry's tumble slowed to a near halt, and then a Ravenclaw girl was able to stop him.  
  
"Someone go alert Madam Pomfrey!" McGonagall had taken charge. Students stood still. "Go! Go!" A few first years raced to the castle. "Let me through!" The Deputy Headmistress headed toward Harry, who of course had about forty students surrounding him. "Give him air, head back to the castle immediately!"  
  
The students started to disperse. Hermione and Ron were left standing over a broken and unconscious Harry. Ron looked as though he had been dipped in whitewash. Hermione knelt by him, unable to bring herself to touch him, afraid to do more damage. Harry's black hair was streaked with blood that came out from a cut near his hairline. His Quidditch robes were torn, his face contorted with a look of unbearable pain. Hermione put her hand in front of his bruised lips and spoke in a high pitched whisper: "Ron, he's still breathing."  
  
Ron, who was holding Harry's Firebolt and Fred's Cleensweep, turned away from the two, face to the sky. He ran his free hand through the fire of his hair. It was impossible to tell if Harry's two friends were crying because of the violent storm.  
  
"Step away, please, Gryffindors." Professor McGonagall called over the storm. "You can't help him now. Miss Granger, step away please. Miss Granger." Ron leaned down and pulled Hermione away from Harry. "Mobilicorpus."  
  
McGonagall looked severely worried, truly concerned. "He's breathing, come along, we must hurry. The cold from the rain could put him into shock."  
  
Harry, mangled and helpless, silently floated before the group. "Who performed the Impediment Curse?"  
  
"It was I, Headmistress," drawled a wet Malfoy.  
  
"Excellent. Way to think on your feet, Mr. Malfoy. Fifty points to Slytherin. Who stopped his fall?"  
  
Mandy Brockelhurst from their year meekly claimed the action. "Twenty points to Ravenclaw. Admirable form."  
  
They had made it into the castle, Madam Pomfrey was waiting for Harry, but she was not ready for what she saw. All the color drained from her face. "Oh, Minerva, please tell me Dumbledore left Fawkes in your care."  
  
"No, Poppy, I am afraid not." Hermione let out a sob. "I haven't the vaguest idea of where either of them are. I am sorry."  
  
"No matter." It looked as though it was. "Th-Thank you, Headmistress. I'll take it from here." She sped Harry to the hospital wing.  
  
"C'mon, Hermione, let's go get out of these wet robes, and then we can go wait for word about Harry. We can't do anything yet." Ron guided Hermione, who was deeply shaken by the events of the morning, toward Gryffindor Tower.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Meanwhile, at about that same time as the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, a witchcraft academy outside Chicopee, Massachusetts, was under attack by a group of Death Eaters.  
  
~*^*~  
  
It was about 6.30 am at the Salem Witches Institute. Ginny Weasley was already up and dressed. She hadn't been sleeping very well and decided to work on an essay for her brother Charlie's Care of Magical Creatures class. She was going over her notes, looking for information on lethifolds.  
  
The old Victorian mansion was drafty, and the fire in the sitting room had gone out. She bent down and fixed the fire with her wand. The US schools, she'd learned, have paid house elves, they have unions and regular nine to five hours. She thought that it was a bit daft, but the United States was quite different than she was used to.  
  
As she sat back down at the table, the fire snuffed out again. 'That's odd,' she thought, and just pulled her robes closer around herself. She didn't have the patience to mess with the fireplace.  
  
She was immersed in a story of a man who faked his death via lethifold when she thought she heard screams from the North Wing. Ginny was about to get up to investigate when a large gust of wind hit SWI* and it started to lightning outside. Again, she thought she heard screams, grabbed her wand and ran to alert her suitemates.  
  
All ten girls, slightly frightened and definitely groggy, grabbed their wands and headed toward the North Wing. A mix of eleventh and twelfth year students (as they're called in the US), they were positively unprepared for what they found. Ginny was the only one who had seen anything like the scene before them. Three figures clothed completely in black were toying with the girls of Abigail Williams Suite.  
  
"Oh, Merlin! Daphne, Erin! Go get Charlie and Dr. Cartland! Hurry! Expelliarmus!"  
  
Ginny did not have enough magical power to disarm the wizards. They barely noticed the other girls' presence. "Well, come on girls, together! Don't just stand there, help me!"  
  
The suite mates snapped out of it, and together with an almighty "EXPELLIARMUS!" they were able to disarm the three figures. "Stupefy!"  
  
"Some of you stay here and help these freshmen. I've got to go find Charlie."  
  
Ginny and three others ran towards the ballroom, only to be greeted by about twenty of the same characters they met in the North Wing.  
  
"Oh, bloody hell! Let's get out of here! Stupefy!" Ginny and the other girls threw similar curses over their shoulders as they worked their way back to the conservatories.  
  
Charlie Weasley had just run in. "Gin, get out of here! Dr. Cartland has the rest of the girls, go! The DOMD* is on its way!"  
  
Just as the words left Charlie's mouth, wizards in blue robes trimmed with red appeared and started to battle with the black wizards. "They sent in the Marines," he said under his breath as he went to defend the Institute.  
  
It was true, about thirty Magical US Marines had arrived on the scene. As the girls ran to the gardens, Ginny turned to see the Dark Mark fill the sky. She was consumed with fear as the old mansion she had grown to love suddenly filled with light. The windows and conservatories blew out, showering the gardens with glass, as it was already being showered with rain. The whole situation was surreal. Ginny had never seen a true wizard battle before. She prayed that Charlie was okay, he was in there, cleaning house with the DOMD.  
  
Dr. Cartland, the Headmistress at SWI was collecting students and calling for order. "Suite chairs, take roll!"  
  
Audrynn Yates called for Maryland Suite and Ginny headed toward her voice. "Abby? Okay. Daphne? Where's Daphne? Erin?" No answer. She called for them again. "Where are the Smith twins? Mae? Jeannine? Good. What about Susan? Where is she? Hope, get over here. Ginny? Thank God for you. Where's Monica? Was she with you, Hope? Oh my god."  
  
Audrynn started to cry. Ginny searched the crowd of girls for her missing suite mates and didn't see them. "Audrynn, I think we need to tell the Doc."  
  
Crying could be heard everywhere as the sun started to rise and peek through the clouds. The Dark Mark was fading with the rain and the Defense as well as a few instructors exited what was left of Crucible Manor.  
  
Ginny searched for her brother Charlie and was so relived when she found him. "Charlie, are you all right?" She pulled him into a fierce hug.  
  
"Yes, Ginny-baby. Of course I am."  
  
"Who were they? You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Death Eaters, though I can't figure out why they were here. Are YOU all right?" He pulled her away and examined her from head to toe.  
  
"I am. Did you find any girls? Four of my suite mates are missing."  
  
Charlie looked grave. "There are several girls in there. This makes me so angry! WHY did they come here? Gin, I need to talk with the Defense and Dr. Cartland. Don't leave the grounds."  
  
~*^*~  
  
It was a few days until things started settling down. Finally, Dr. Cartland addressed the students. "In all my years at SWI, I have never seen students so burdened with grief. Even after the mysterious death of Mr. Siess, our Arithmancy instructor in '76.  
  
"Students, I am not here to try to make you understand what has and is happening here. I am not sure if even I do. I will tell you all I know. This attack has left out number, which was once strong at 300 witches, to 263. None other brought on this attack than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and his band of Death Eaters. Tenth, eleventh and twelfth year students should recall him from History of European Magic." At this, Ginny sighed, 'I remember him all right.' "I know that you learned he was defeated by the child Harry Potter in 1981, but recent developments show that he has somehow survived." At this, Ginny's looked up and she started to cry as she remembered her friends back home.  
  
"Though it is unknown as to why he chose SWI, You-Know-Who has clearly made a guest appearance here. I ask you to give your full testimony and cooperation to the CIA.* They will be asking you questions about last week's events.  
  
"At present, SWI will not be open for instruction for the rest of the school year. You all will have to transfer to other wizarding academies across the country. The headmasters of these schools have agreed to an open-door policy, with the exception of those few schools with lineage policies. If this applies to you, please look into the matter. At least for this year, I ask you to continue your study of witchcraft elsewhere. Regrettably, we cannot accommodate you here. I pray I see your faces again in the fall.  
  
"Finally, students, I ask you to remember our lost girls. They are the innocents. They are the wronged. Remember them. As you continue with your lives, keep their memory in your hearts. I am so deeply sorry this has happened to you all. You're such a good group of girls." With the last bit of this, Dr. Cartland choked up, her Minnesota accent broke, and walked away.  
  
~*^*~  
  
"Charlie, I'll talk with the CIA agents as soon as possible, but after that, let's go home. I miss my family. We need our family."  
  
"Okay, Ginny-baby." He ruffed her curly hair and kissed her forehead. "We'll go home."  
  
^^^^^^  
  
A/N: I used the Marines because they get the job done, devil dog style. Oooh-RAH! The Salem Witches Institute is, I assume, a girls academy, hence, the "Witch". The suite living arrangement is credited to Virginia Alice Cottey.  
  
*SWI: Salem Witches Institute  
  
*DOMD: Department of Magical Defense  
  
*CIA: the Commonwealth Intrawizardry Association 


	11. Ch. 11, The Scotch-Drinking Miracle Woma...

A/N: Thanks to all of those who have kept with me. Tell your friends about this fiction! Recommend it to them! Force them to read and review!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related entities are the property of Joanne Kathleen Rowling and whatever associates involved in the complicated copyright system. JK Rowling is the goddess of all that is good in Wiz- fic. God Bless JK, and please hurry with OOP!  
  
Chapter Eleven: The Scotch-Drinking Miracle Woman  
  
Northern Scotland was experiencing one of its fiercer storms that afternoon. It was black like the night at two in the afternoon. Violent winds rocked the towers and even the resident ghosts felt the chill of the weather.  
  
As soon as Ron walked Hermione back to the Tower, she sped for her dormitory, as Ron did his, both determined to see about Harry. In record time, they made it back down to the Common Room as the portrait hole swung open. Professor McGonagall stepped in with a sobering look.  
  
"Ah, and where might you tow be headed?" She knew the obvious answer.  
  
"Professor, we were going to see about Harry." Ron answered quickly. He was quite anxious to get past the Fat Lady.  
  
"You'll do nothing of the sort." She received wary looks from the two Gryffindors. "Now, I know you're worried about Potter, but there's nothing you can do except distract Madam Pomfrey. I'll have a house-elf come for you when you may see him." Noticing the look on Hermione's face, she added: "Don't worry, Miss Granger, he'll live."  
  
With that, she headed towards the portrait hole. As she was stepping out, she turned again. "Don't go distracting that woman. She has a lot to be precise about. Please just wait for when she calls for you." McGonagall stepped out, leaving Ron and Hermione less satisfied than before she entered.  
  
"Well, bugger that," said Ron as he slumped into an armchair.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Madam Pomfrey was beside herself with the task at hand. How, in God's name, was she going to perform this miracle? First, she hung a "Do Not Disturb Unless Mortal Emergency" sign on the door of the wing. Next, she crossed herself mumbling a prayer for accuracy and swiftness; time was of the essence. Then, less than ten minutes after Harry had hit the final step, she got to work, trying to repair the gruesome damage.  
  
Still floating in mid-air, she started to peel away Harry's blood- soaked, mud-matted Quidditch robes, mindful of the bones protruding his skin. His skin was clammy and cold to the touch, his lips were light blue. Madam Pomfrey performed a slight heating charm around his naked body, and started to clean the blood and mud off him, surveying the damage.  
  
"Right ankle crushed, right femur broken and protruding the skin." She muttered his ailments to herself as she kept the heating charm in check. She checked his air passageways and charmed those to keep them clear, and she examined a bit further. "Right femur dislocated from pelvis. Thank God he's unconscious. I wouldn't want to be feeling this." She moved on. "Ribs, three broken, right lung punctured." She listened at his chest. "Heartbeat: strong. Doesn't give up, this one. Collarbone, broken. Nose, broken. Bruised eye." Harry's right eye had swollen shut with great unattractiveness.  
  
Madam Pomfrey rotated Harry to his side, repeated the procedure and found similar injuries. She rotated him facedown and almost passed out herself. Harry was bleeding unreservedly right above his kidney. His back was almost completely black and blue, from buttocks to shoulder blades. She felt for protrusions along his spine and felt none. "Thank goodness for small favors. I am not a miracle woman."  
  
Neither was Harry's skull cracked. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it wasn't a cakewalk either. She injected Spot Skele-Grow to his broken bones, setting them as she did so. It took a long time to rebuild his ankle, a short time to reset his femoral-pelvic joint. She kept a monitor on him all through this and was astounded at how steady he was overall. 'What ARE they making kids out of these days,' she thought to herself.  
  
With most skeletal reconstruction finished, she called for a house- elf. A sad excuse for one named Winky appeared instantly. "Winky here for your service, mistress."  
  
"Fine, Winky. I need you to deliver a message to Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger in Gryffindor Tower. Tell them they may come see Harry."  
  
"Yes, mistress, right away." Winky disappeared as quickly as she had come.  
  
Madam Pomfrey spread ointment on Harry's eye, over the lower right side of his back and placed him face down on a hospital bed. She turned his head toward the door and pulled the sheets up over his rear. Then she promptly put her feet up in front of the fireplace and poured herself a drink.  
  
~*^*~  
  
In the Gryffindor Common Room, the Head Girl and her best friend were nervous wreaks. Hermione hadn't lost her composure, yet, but spent the last half hour jumping at every sound made in the room and tearing a sheet of parchment to shreds.  
  
Ron, on the other hand, had stationed himself at the portrait hole and nearly attacked every person who came through it.  
  
At long last, the Fat Lady swung herself open and a little head poked through.  
  
"Will sir help me?" Winky asked pitifully.  
  
"Are you here for Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger?"  
  
"Yes, Winky has a message."  
  
"What is it?" Hermione was at Ron's side at Winky's first squeak.  
  
"You, sir and miss, can see Mr. Harry Potter now." She hiccoughed from the excitement.  
  
"Excuse us, thank you, Winky," Hermione said breathlessly. They were past the Fat Lady and the whole ordeal took less than ten seconds.  
  
~*^*~  
  
"Ennervate." Madam Pomfrey had finished the last swallow of her Scotch and brought Harry back to consciousness. "Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry opened his good eye and it nearly startled the old nurse to see that vibrant green amid the bruises on his face.  
  
"Where?" Harry asked groggily.  
  
"You're in the hospital wing. You took a nasty fall, Mr. Potter. There were a lot of broken bones, and you still have bruises, as well as bruised organs. Now, I suspect your friends will be here momentarily. They are to stay calm and keep you calm. If they get out of line, they go. Understood?"  
  
Harry propped himself up and took a deep breath. Pain shot through his side and he noticed where the ribs had poked out of their respective places.  
  
"I'd like to keep you here through the week for observation, so don't get any funny ideas. Now, I need you to rest. Lie back down."  
  
Harry looked crestfallen. There was a light impatient knock at the door.  
  
"That will be them. Excuse me, they'll be in shortly." With that, Madam Pomfrey left the room.  
  
~*^*~  
  
At the same time, Hermione and Ron were racing out of the Tower down the many staircases.  
  
"Ron, wait up!" Hermione called to Ron, who was quite far ahead of her.  
  
"Come on!"  
  
"I'm hurrying." She caught up with him again and as they hit the Great Hall, they broke into a full run. It only took a few seconds for Ron to be ahead of her again.  
  
"Ron, wait!"  
  
"Hermione, will you bloody hurry up?"  
  
"Harry would wait for me."  
  
That was all it took for Ron to come to his senses. He walked back to her to close the gap between them, and they hurried to the hospital wing together.  
  
They reached the door of Madam Pomfrey's office and Ron gave it a light knock. Within a few moments, she was there at the door. Ron peered over her shoulder to get a look at Harry, but she ushered them into the hall after she removed the sign from her door. "In a moment, Mr. Weasley, in a moment." Pomfrey sighed. "There are a few things I'd like to tell you before you see him. First, do NOT get him excited. His body's had enough excitement for the day. Second. He looks terrible; don't discourage him. Its nothing I can't fix, but it takes time. Remember to keep him calm. If you or any other student needs me, I'll be in the Headmistress' office." The miracle woman left them to Harry's bed and departed.  
  
A/N: You read it, now review, you fanfic lovin' nut! 


	12. Ch. 12, Malfoy, The Amazing Malevolent A...

A/N: Here is chapter twelve. It is much longer than my previous ones, but I like it a lot. I have SUFFERED with lack of sleep for this fic. However, you won't hear me complain. I love working on it very much.  
  
Disclaimer: I upped the rating b/c of this chapter. Ron has a mouth on him. JK Rowling, the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic, owns Harry Potter. God Bless JK, and please hurry with OOP!  
  
Chapter Twelve: Malfoy, the Amazing Malevolent Arse  
  
Thoroughly wary of entering the room, Ron and Hermione hesitated before turning the door handle. After a few short moments, Ron glanced down at her: "Ready?"  
  
"Yes, let's go."  
  
The room was in semi-shadow as they made their way across the room to Harry's bed. Neither of them was prepared for the scene that graced their eyes. The color drained from Ron's face. Hermione blanched and bit her lip.  
  
Harry was lying on his stomach, slightly propped up with a pillow. His eyes were closed; he was waiting for recognition from his friends before he opened them. He heard a tall sniffle and felt cool fingers brush his forehead.  
  
"Hello, Harry."  
  
He opened his uninjured eye and tried to focus on the source of the voice: Hermione. Pain was swimming up and down his back, and because of this, he found focusing very difficult. He tried again and saw his two best friends standing over him. "Ron, 'Mione, you look like we lost the House Cup. It's not that bad, is it?"  
  
"Well…" began Ron.  
  
"No, Harry, of course not. Madam Pomfrey will have you healed up in no time." Hermione pulled a chair next to his bed and sat down. Ron followed suit.  
  
"So, I caught the Snitch, right? I think I remember that much."  
  
"You did, Harry! Merlin, that was a great game! Malfoy, I mean, Ferret Boy, is probably nursing his bruised arse right now."  
  
Harry laughed and then grimaced with pain. "Serves him right, though, for shadowing me. Hey, who was it that slowed my fall?"  
  
"That was also Malfoy. Seems as though he's not 100% asshole after all."  
  
"Ron," Hermione chastised.  
  
"Well? You tell me one thing that that prat has done that is good, before today. Can't think of anything, can you?"  
  
"That is beside the point. Was there anyone else?" Harry continued.  
  
"Yes, Mandy Brocklehurst, from Ravenclaw. She kept you from falling off the stands." Hermione closed her eyes, as though she were reliving that morning all over again from memory.  
  
"'Mione, really, what is wrong?"  
  
"Harry, don't be silly. I'm fine. I'm just glad you're all right, is all. You'll be--"  
  
Hermione didn't get to finish. At that instant, Draco Malfoy threw open the wing door. It swung shut and crashed in tandem with the storm outside.  
  
Ron stood up. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"This is a hospital wing, is it not?" Malfoy snarled. "Where's Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"McGonagall's office. She'll be back later." Hermione had stood as well, and both subconsciously had shielded Harry form Malfoy's view.  
  
"Oh, very well then." Malfoy turned to leave. "Potter, is that you?"  
  
Harry propped himself up and the full attention of the room was on him. "Yes, Malfoy, how did you guess?"  
  
"I figured if Mudblood and company were hovering and mourning over a hospital bed yet AGAIN, that it must be you." Malfoy sneered and continued: "Great game, don't you think? Even though the end score was less than desirable, it was entertaining. Especially, what do Muggles call it? 'The post-game show?'"  
  
Ron was riled up by that time. "Malfoy, it is time that you left."  
  
"I am not finished, Weasel." Malfoy pushed between the two and positioned himself level with Harry, but not before he insulted Hermione another time with a lustful look down the front of her robes. He leaned into Harry's face, snickering at his injured eye and said lowly, so only Harry could hear: "The only reason I let you live was to give someone else the chance to let you die." With that, he stood fully up, turned around and bumped Ron's shoulder as he headed out. "Oh, and Potter? _really_ SMASHING game." Then he was gone.  
  
"Ron, don't even start." Hermione predicted his reaction with ease. "Go out into the hall and shout a bit if you need to, but not in here. Remember what Madam Pomfrey said."  
  
Ron was completely shocked. He began to protest, but Hermione just put her hand over his mouth and whispered, "Go." His face fell, but he was obedient, much to her surprise. A few moments after Ron left the room, Harry and Hermione could hear aggravated yells echoing through the corridor. Harry laughed and caught his breath, settling back down on the bed.  
  
"That takes care of keeping it calm in here. What did Malfoy say to you, Harry?"  
  
He sighed and closed his eye. "Well," he hesitated for a moment. "He said he was glad I didn't die, more or less. That about sums it up."  
  
"If you say so, Harry," Hermione said skeptically. "Looks like Ron's over it. Yes, that's him right now."  
  
Ron re-entered the room abashed. He sulked back over to his chair, flopped down, and glared at Hermione.  
  
"Okay, cut it out for once and tell me, how bad do I look? How long until I can play Quidditch?"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey won't let you out until you completely recover, so you'll be here a bit, I guess, but we'll see. From the looks of your back," Hermione got up and hovered closely, "she gave you shots of Skele-Grow here." She pressed lightly. "Here, here, and here. It looks like a few of your ribs broke the skin, maybe punctured your lung, which may be why you're having trouble breathing. She put an ointment over the wounds and they're healing. They may scar over. Your back is heavily swollen and bruised." Harry felt two tears hit his back. "And your right kidney has a laceration over it. I think you'll be lucky if she lets you out by Hogsmeade." She sniffed and sat back down, staring at the fire.  
  
The trio rested in silence for a few minutes. Ron mumbled something about Malfoy, and Harry asked him to repeat it.  
  
"I said, 'Someday, I am going to hex that prat.' You know…He's going to get it, and he's going to regret the day he was born. I HATE that bloody BASTARD! Every time he opens his mouth, its like he's spreading some sort of nasty Slytherin disease. I hate him."  
  
Harry propped himself up and stared forward. "I am not too fond of him either. You're right. He's so malevolent. He's like the plague." He slowly contemplated his next words. "Hermione, I am sorry that Draco Malfoy insults you. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve to hear it. I'm sorry." There was again the silence that has so often settled around them. He knew that Hermione wasn't angry with him over Malfoy, but he felt he should say something. He silently resolved to fix Malfoy's mouth once and for all. The git spread enough grief about the school; it was a wonder that he was a prefect. 'Then again,' Harry thought, 'It was either him or Crabbe or Goyle. He must have been the lesser of those evils.'  
  
The word 'evil' sprung a chain of thoughts and caused the memory of why he fell off his Firebolt in the first place. He was about to tell them about it when Professor McGonagall entered and crossed to the three. Poppy Pomfrey proceeded to push Harry back down to a horizontal position. She got out a jar of what looked like cold cream and spread it over Harry's wounds. The cold cream turned from a light green to burnt orange, and gave off the smell of chamomile.  
  
"I'm glad to see you're on the mend. I'm under the impression you should be up and about in no time."  
  
"Well, I hope so, Professor."  
  
"We'll see about that. First you have to recover." Madam Pomfrey had a way of dampening the mood.  
  
"In spite of the fact that Gryffindor played yet another excellent game today, you boys have put so much work into the team, it shows," McGonagall said added that last bit with pride, "I have to ask about your victory lap around the Pitch, Mr. Potter. Not your usual quality, if you'll forgive me for saying so. Obviously, that wasn't intended, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"  
  
Harry cleared his throat and began to tell what he saw before he fell off his broom. "I'd never felt such intensity so quickly. Usually, it builds over a few moments, but it hit me like a hammer this morning. Mmm." Harry paused and felt his scar. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier, Professor. I was kind of out of it."  
  
"Never mind about that. I received an owl from the Ministry right before I came here. Your account parallels the letter. It seems as though a witchcraft academy in the States was attacked severely by Death Eaters early this morning. I believe about thirty-five girls were murdered. Right about the time of the Quidditch game, actually. Mind you, I believe it is a five-hour time difference. There was the mysterious death years ago of a man named Harper Siess, an underground reconnaissance agent. He worked at the Institute and was killed in front of his Arithmancy class. The school was devastated." McGonagall looked quite sad at this last bit, as if she had lost one of her own colleagues.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, you didn't say the name of the academy."  
  
"Oh, didn't I? It was the Salem Witchcraft Institute. Massachusetts."  
  
At this very statement, Ron, Harry, and Hermione perked up. Ron's eyes as big as saucers, he asked, "Was anyone hurt? Was she--? M-my sister, Ginny, remember, she transferred there?"  
  
"Your sister is fine, Mr. Weasley. I also got an owl from your brother, Charlie. I was getting to the fact that your sister has applied for re- admission. Of course, she's welcome here. They have affairs they need to lay in order and funerals to attend. They both will be returning here. I am going to invite Charlie to relieve Professor Harris as the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. She hasn't taken very well to losing an arm and a leg."  
  
Ron looked as though he was given an extra Christmas holiday. He almost hugged the stern witch, but thought better of it.  
  
McGonagall turned to Harry, "Thank you, Potter." She got ready to leave. "Please tell me if you have any more information. Recover quickly. My Transfiguration class wouldn't be the same without you. Goodness, that reminds me. With some short deliberation with the other heads of the Houses, I wanted to let you know since you'll be out for a bit, I'd like to appoint a substitute Head Boy in your stead."  
  
Hermione jumped in before Harry could say a word. "Is that really necessary? I think I can handle a week alone." She looked doubtful but determined.  
  
"That is all well and good, Miss Granger, but there are places that you can't  
  
go to, where the Head Boy can. I will need all hands on deck; a prefect's are more valuable if they have more authority. Minister Fudge is sending a few Aurors to the school to keep an eye on things. They need be, especially after today's events. I don't want to appear understaffed, and honestly, as a past Head Girl, I know it is hard work with two together. Therefore, yes, this will only be temporary. Mr. Potter?" She turned to him after she finished putting Hermione in her place.  
  
"Yes, Professor?"  
  
"I would like your input on this. Out of the three seventh year prefects, whom do you suggest?"  
  
"Let's see," he was truly considering. "There's Malfoy, right? Definitely no. No. Definitely never. There's that Ravenclaw boy, Terry Boot. He would be okay. I guess, and who else is there? I forget."  
  
"Justin Finch-Fletchy," Hermione said automatically.  
  
"Right, him. Either one would be okay. I really don't care. Hermione will be the one working with him. 'Mione, who would you rather?"  
  
"I'm not familiar with Terry, so Justin. Herbology has been pleasant with him. He'll do."  
  
"Very well, then. Miss Granger, if you'll come with me. We need to find Mr. Finch-Fletchy so we can give him a short run-through of his daily duties."  
  
"Okay. 'Bye Ron, Harry. I'll be back to see you later, okay?" She gave Harry a wan smile and small wave as she walked away. "Oh, Madam Pomfrey? Draco Malfoy was in here looking for you about an hour ago."  
  
"Yes, thank you." She rolled her eyes and Ron thought he heard "Bruised bum, silly boy," under her breath.  
  
Hermione and McGonagall headed out of the wing. Madam Pomfrey cleared away what she used to mend Harry and informed the boys that she'd be in her office. After a quick check-over of her patient, she left them in peace.  
  
"Harry, I can't believe you did that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You let Hermione work with that prat? Don't you remember how he judased you back in second year? I don't like it, Harry. And, I think he fancies her."  
  
"What, Ron, jealous? Hermione's a big girl. -She- chose to work with Justin. Now, I admit, I said 'No' to her working with Malfoy, but she's not a masochist and therefore wouldn't have picked him anyway. I can't be there to work with her and she deserves a competent partner. That Boot fellow is a bit loopy. Again, so what if he fancies her? Who cares? I'm not about to tell the girl 'no.' Despite what you may think, she's her own person." Harry sighed. "Most importantly, she works too hard as it is. It would be my fault if I told her to go it alone and take on twice as much work. How fair would that be to her? Gosh, Ron. I didn't know -you- could be such a prat. It's only until I can do the job again anyway."  
  
Ron was indignant. "What if I did like her? Does that matter?"  
  
"Oh, Ron, sometimes, I truly think that you miss arguing with Percy. So, what if you do? If she reflects the same, you'll sort it out together. Justin will be okay. It is only a short while."  
  
Ron huffed and sat down. The two sat in quiet for a bit, and the storm outside died down. The Giant Squid could be seen surfacing and enjoying the break in the clouds. Harry worried himself with his own thoughts for a bit. He thought about Justin Finch-Fletchy and the truth behind what Ron said about him. Yes, he did suspect Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin, just like everyone else in school. Justin took it back after he had been Petrified, of course. He had always been pleasant in class, and was very clever for a Muggle-born wizard. That wasn't too unusual, though. Hermione was extremely clever at her studies, and she was, of course, a Muggle-born. He was responsible; he always managed to keep Hufflepuff in line. (The Hufflepuffs were rarely out-of-line, but that wasn't really the issue.) The more Harry thought about it, the more he saw why Justin was an obvious replacement for himself. Hermione deserved to be with and work with someone who could devote more time to what needed to be done. Harry had to admit that he wasn't as attentive to his Head Boy duties as he should have been, but McGonagall did appoint him knowing that Harry was Captain of her House team. Justin would definitely make life easier for her this week, even if he were a beginner.  
  
It did bother him that Ron and Justin seemed to like her. It gave him an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. Hermione was so great at everything. A great friend, student, she was witty, dependable and brave. It was completely natural for them to like her too. She was quite pretty; Harry knew that for a fact. She had an innate beauty about her that Lavender and Parvati couldn't accomplish if they tried. It wasn't as if he even had a chance with her at all, so why should he worry about it? He wasn't so sure about Ron, but Justin may be good for Hermione. Even though it still made him jealous, he was glad for the chance for her and Justin too. If it turned out that she liked him as well, then Justin would be a -very- -lucky- boy.  
  
Little did Harry realize that he did exactly what he lectured Ron about doing: choosing for her. He knew it wouldn't be right to risk her because of Voldemort's ever-looming shadow over his life. Voldemort had this habit of killing people the people that he loved most, and that loved him most. His nightmares still worried him, but as long as they weren't accompanied with pain, then he knew the dreams were of his own creation. The pain in his heart was very real when he relived her dead on the ground at least once a week, of that he was certain. He would never, -ever- intentionally put either of his best friends at risk, so therefore, he had only one option: to remain her friend. He needed to be there for her. She worried so much, it killed him. Sometimes-  
  
Ron broke Harry's train of thought. He must have been thinking of other things as well, but superficially. "Malfoy's got a bruised arse, and he crawled, ferret style, to get something done about it!" His eyes were watering as he held his sides. "That is absolutely priceless."  
  
Harry couldn't help but laugh about it, too.  
  
A/N: Not too long, was it? Even so, was it interesting? The only way I'll find out is if you *ahem* review! 


	13. Ch. 13, The End of a Long Monday

A/N: Yes, I know this took me a long time, and I am sorry. I am doing SO much better with it, though. I'll try harder to update more often; college is a time consumer. This is long. Settle in for a bit.  
  
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her associates own Harry Potter and Associates. I reserve the right to proclaim my love to the brilliant woman right here and now. I love you, JK. Please publish HP &OotP! God Bless JK.  
  
Chapter Thirteen: The End of a Long Monday.  
  
Of course, Hermione did come back and visit with Harry and Ron after she finished with McGonagall. By about eight in the evening, Madam Pomfrey came in and cordially kicked Ron and Hermione out. There wasn't the usual amount of fuss that Poppy had come to expect of the excluded two thirds of the trio. All were tired and needed to get rest.  
  
"Come back tomorrow. I don't think that I could stop you."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Yes, thank you," Ron said humbly.  
  
For once, it looked as if the old witch had softened a bit. "Nonsense, children. Get back to your tower and get some sleep. It's going to be a long week."  
  
"Good night, Harry," they said together, but Harry was already asleep.  
  
As they left the room, Madam Pomfrey said to herself, "I have never in all my life seen such friends. They certainly are lucky to have each other." She checked Harry over again. His back had stopped swelling and she had to drain fluid off once that evening, but other than that he was doing fine. She figured he'd sleep well into Sunday morning and that was all right by her. She pulled a sheet up over his back and retired herself.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Ron and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower, not saying much. When they slipped through the portrait hole the scene before them would have made them laugh, had it been another occasion. About thirty Gryffindors looked as though they'd been waiting as Ron and Hermione had been earlier that afternoon, like they were on eggshells.  
  
Telly Clearwater was the first one to speak. "Ron, how is he? Do we still have a Seeker?"  
  
"'Course we do! What're you on about, you git?! He'll be back at practice soon. Definitely before we go against Ravenclaw."  
  
"Thank god for that!" Beater Creevey chimed in.  
  
"Tell you what," Ron began, "since I'm running practices till he gets back, we won't practice tomorrow. Slytherin can use the field because they need it. We'll go visit the Captain." He started to head for his room. Ron paused and then turned to everyone. "What're you all moping around about? We won! Where's the party?!? Harry'd be upset if he found out you hadn't celebrated yet!"  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Lisette Jordan let off a few Filibuster Fireworks to get it all started. Soon, the room was filled with the cries of happy victors. Satisfied, she sat down and laughed as the Beaters tossed the three Chasers up in the air.  
  
"Ron, I've got to go to sleep. You should too. I'll see you at breakfast."  
  
"'Night, Hermione."  
  
"'Night, Ron." She turned up toward her staircase. "Oh, guys, don't get too loud. I don't need McGonagall on my case."  
  
"Yes, Head Girl," the Quidditch team chimed in unison.  
  
'They always do that to me,' she thought as she climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Lavender and Parvati. She brushed her teeth, changed into her nightdress and crawled into bed. She expected to fall asleep instantly, as she was exhausted, but sleep for her was a long time in coming.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Ron, likewise, had climbed up his staircase to the seventh floor room. He prepared himself similarly and got into his pajamas (which oddly enough were the right size), and with a look at Harry's four-poster, clambered into bed. It took him longer than usual to get to sleep. This was somewhat caused by his thoughts about the conversation he had with Harry about Hermione, and somewhat caused by Ginny. He was excited to see his little sister. It has been over a year and a half since they'd talked face to face. Over Hermione, he thought about what Harry said about Justin, and he agreed. He did decide that if anyone ever hurt her, he'd kill him.  
  
With that happy thought in mind, Ron fell into a refreshing sleep.  
  
~*^*~  
  
The next day, the Tower was slow in rising. Most students lay in bed until around noontime. Hermione, of course, could be found in the library. She was again working on the research work for McGonagall. She had her maps spread about her and was plotting points indicating movement by the Dark Forces. Harry was never far from her thoughts. She had wanted to go see him, but knew he'd be sleeping. Madam Pomfrey would be waking him up to eat near lunch time, so she left an note for Ron to come pick her up from the library around 12.30 to see him and they could go together.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Poppy Pomfrey woke Harry at 11.30. He'd had a fair amount of sleep and he looked rested. She did an examination of his back and was pleased to see the swelling had gone down completely. This would have been much easier if Fawkes were there. Harry would be back with his own House right now, if that were the case. Unfortunately, this healing process would have to be done the 'traditional' way, and that meant that for Harry, most of the healing had to come from himself; slow waiting the Muggle way.  
  
Madam Pomfrey had Harry sit up after she examined his back (and that nasty wound). Harry had a bit of trouble sitting upright. She pushed his shoulders into alignment and his joints popped all the way down.  
  
"How did that feel, Potter?"  
  
"It hurt, but I feel better for it."  
  
"All right, then."  
  
She went about examining his ears and eyes. His right eye was still swollen shut. He was generally very black and blue.  
  
In Poppy's fervor to repair Harry last night, she neglected his nose, which was obviously still broken.  
  
"Okay, Potter. I want you to hold your breath. This is going to hurt, but only for a second."  
  
Harry's eye got wide as he saw Madam Pomfrey approach him with a small syringe in hand and her wand in her mouth. He held his breath. She was right; it was like gravel and glass, and then what felt like a little bee sting. Then it was over.  
  
"Much better. Your facial swelling should go down considerably." She went about examining his torso and then handed him pajama trousers. "Go ahead and get these on. I'll have some lunch brought up to you."  
  
Harry obliged. Madam Pomfrey had him do some exercises to work on the stiffness in his legs. He still needed to give his back some rest, so they left those exercises for the time being.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Ron brought the team with him when he went to pick Hermione up from the library. Madam Pince was not pleased to see a rowdy six disturb the solitude of her library.  
  
Hermione, not having noticed the time, was surprised to see them, but went along to the hospital wing. Whereas six of the seven were quite boisterous, Hermione kept to herself, and smiled and nodded when appropriate.  
  
The hospital wing door swung open and the Gryffindor House poured in with shouts of jubilation for their Seeker, who had, for it seemed, the hundredth time, allowed them to royally stomp Slytherin.  
  
Amy Spinnet was offended when Pomfrey hushed the team. As Madam Ponfrey lectured, Ron looked ashamed as he remembered that he should have kept the team quiet to keep Harry calm. After about three minutes of solid lecturing, she let them advance to his bedside, where he was happy to see them.  
  
The chatter started right away and it was obvious they were just as excited as they were yesterday. Hermione sat listening to the play-by-play of yesterday's match for about half an hour and then got up to leave quietly. No one noticed her departure but Harry. He watched her cross the room and slip out the door. She looked back at the group and Harry before she ducked out and saw him watching her. She gave a small smile before she headed back to the library.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Back at the alcove where she was most comfortable, and surrounded by her books, Hermione got back to work on McGonagall's research. Continually frustrated at her inability to see a pattern, and the fact that she felt as though she were getting nowhere, she took a break and decided to work on her Potions research. As much as she hated to admit it, staying in the hospital wing all day yesterday had put her behind schedule. She headed over to the Magizoology section of the vast library. She needed to do some looking into of Blast-Ended Skrewt armor.  
  
She was surprised to find Justin Finch-Fletchy just down the stack from her. Normally, Sundays kept the library quiet. She nodded at him and reached for a large book called "Magical Creatures Whose Uses are Few and Far Between." As she was only about 5'5", she couldn't reach it and remembering that she couldn't use magic to retrieve it (magic was only allowed in the classrooms), she went looking for the shelf-ladder. As it turned out, it was down by Justin, and she walked over to him to get it.  
  
"Hi, Justin, could you pass me the ladder, please?" Hermione asked, as the space between the shelves wasn't wide enough for all three to fit.  
  
"Oh, right." He put down the book he was looking in. Hermione caught a glimpse of the cover: 'There's Something About Mandrakes.' "Here, let me get this for you," Justin said, looking at her slight frame. "Where do you need it?"  
  
"I can handle it, really."  
  
"It's no problem. I'll just carry it down there for you." Justin smiled down at Hermione. He flashed his snow-white teeth at her, and the determination to do it herself softened. He picked up the hickory ladder easily with his six-foot frame.  
  
'Why, he's nearly as tall as Ron,' she thought to herself as she followed him back to the book she needed.  
  
"Right here, please," she asked as he positioned the ladder. "What are you researching? I saw that you were looking for at Mandrakes." She climbed the ladder and was browsing though the row she desired.  
  
"Well, I'm in advanced Herbology, which I take with Longbottom and Zabini. I need a research topic for a paper due at the end of the term. I figured since the Mandrake is what kept me, I mean, us, from our Petrified states, I'd look into it."  
  
"Hmmm…" she said, not really listening.  
  
"Yeah, so, what I'm looking into is whether the Mandrake should be considered a plant, because it grows in the ground, like a plant, or a Magical Creature, because of its living habits, you know, getting into other pots and such."  
  
"Mmmm-mmm," Hermione said, biting her lip and reaching for a book that was slightly out of range.  
  
"Here." Justin easily stretched up and got her book.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome. You know, the Mandrake question is kind of like the tomato question, really."  
  
Hermione looked puzzled. "Tomato question?"  
  
"You don't know what I'm talking about? We're both Muggle-born, right?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, getting slightly annoyed.  
  
"The question of whether a tomato is really a fruit or a vegetable."  
  
"Ah, -that- question. It's simple, really. Most vegetables are fruits."  
  
Justin looked thoroughly confused and ran a hand through his curly golden locks.  
  
"If food, that is, fruit, grows around the seed of a plant, that food is called a fruit. The fruit of a tomato is the red stuff. Zucchini are fruits, squash are fruits. Carrots are not. They have seeds growing at a different part of the plant."  
  
"Oh. We didn't learn that in Herbology." He felt stupid.  
  
"I learned about it in Muggle Studies. I think the lecture was called 'Silly Questions Muggles Ask Themselves to Keep Busy."  
  
Justin laughed at that. "What're you doing with this?" He looked at the cover. "What's this all about?"  
  
"Oh, this is for Potions Research. There is a theory that the armor of a Blast-Ended Skrewt will protect one from a Lethifold attack, if used in Potion form. That's what we're working on in a few weeks, so I thought I'd get a bit of background information."  
  
Justin's eyes widened at Hermione's preparedness. "Well, all right. I'll get back to my Mandrakes now." He handed her the dusty book. It was heavy in her arms. "Good luck with the Skrewt. Will I see you on rounds tonight?"  
  
"Yes, of course."  
  
"All right, then." Justin smiled his million-dollar smile again, and then returned to his studies.  
  
She smiled as well. Did she feel herself blushing? What nonsense is that? She walked back to the alcove with the windows that faced the lake.  
  
~*^*~  
  
The week progressed on into Monday. Sunday night, Hermione had gone into see Harry after the team had left, but he was asleep. She stayed with him for a while and then went to go on rounds with Justin.  
  
On Monday, of course, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was buzzing about what happened to Harry. Some students talked in shushed clumps, whispering whenever Ron or Hermione passed. Others asked them flat out why Harry fell off his broomstick. As the only ones who knew, they said nothing, as a key part to keeping pandemonium at a minimum.  
  
The Aurors arrived by the afternoon, and Hermione and Justin had their hands full those first few days, giving tours of the grounds and castle, as well as keeping students out of their way.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Monday evening rolled around and the Common Room was noisy. Hermione sat near the fire with her Transfiguration book. She was thoroughly engrossed in reading about Animagi theory when she noticed the room got respectively quieter. She looked up from her book and saw a few fourth- years working on an Astronomy chart. Other than that, it was empty. As clever as she was, it took her a few minutes to realize the Quidditch team was out practicing. As she looked out the window, she saw she was right.  
  
Hermione gathered up her things and Harry's assignments and headed for the hospital wing to see him.  
  
~*^*~  
  
It was six o'clock, and the clock tower had just finished its tolling. The hospital wing was empty except for a first-year Potions mishap, and he would be gone by the morning. Harry knew the Quidditch team was practicing and he was glad he didn't have a bed facing the Pitch. He loved Quidditch as much as anything and longed to be out there.  
  
Resigned to an evening of counting sheep or some other annoying animal, he settled in for the long hull. Hermione was off doing some kind of Head Girl duty because of the Aurors, no doubt. He did hope that either Ron or she might make it over to see him tonight.  
  
Harry was off in his own world a few minutes later, and he didn't hear Hermione enter, or even notice her until she was a few feet from his bedside. She carried a large stack of books, as well as a bursting rucksack on her back.  
  
Startled to see her, he smiled and took the top-most books form her and placed them on his bedside cabinet. "Hey, 'Mione, you surprised me. I was wondering if you were going to be by."  
  
"Hello, Harry. Yes, I just wanted to get some things finished before I came over. I brought your work for today. Transfiguration, hmm, Divination," she scrunched her nose up at this. "And Herbology. I also brought you a few of your Quidditch magazines. I had Ron get them for me."  
  
As he was sorting though what she brought him, Hermione took the time to examine who he looked. He was sitting up today, although not against anything. To get a better look at how his back was healing up, she stood and poured herself a glass of water. It wasn't looking much better than yesterday, in fact, it looked the same. Hermione sat down and was pleased to notice his nose wasn't swollen anymore. His right eye was still shut. Hermione shivered visibly. His eye did not look well at all.  
  
Harry tilted his head to the side and eyed her carefully. "What?"  
  
"Hmm? Oh, I didn't want you to fall behind, so I thought I'd tutor you with what you missed. You have to keep your grades up to stay Head Boy."  
  
Harry laughed. Hermione was hard to get off track. "Well, let's get started. I assume you are not going to help me with Divination…" Harry teased.  
  
"Well, I can look over it. I really doubt that it would be difficult to pick up. It's only nonsense."  
  
"That it is. Are my glasses over there? I haven't seen them."  
  
"I bet they're still on the Quidditch Pitch. Give me a few minutes and I'll be back, okay?"  
  
"I could work without them, you know…"  
  
"Don't be silly. I'll be right back."  
  
"Okay." What could he say? Was there any stopping Hermione?  
  
She was gone as quickly as she came. He sighed. Harry opened a magazine, but it did no good without his glasses. He shook his head as he set the magazine aside. Hermione was always taking care of him, almost like a mother hen, really, but more endearing. She was always looking out for him.  
  
He heard the door open and looked up, hoping to see Hermione. Instead, the tall frame of Justin Finch-Fletchy filled the doorway. Harry glowered; he was for some reason, unhappy to see him. Justin made his way across the floor.  
  
"Potter, how are you?" Justin reached his hand out to Harry.  
  
"Fletchy. Hanging in there. Yourself?" He asked as he shook Justin's hand.  
  
"Pretty good, pretty good. Must say, we were all a bit worried to hear about your 'accident.' That broomstick of yours isn't temperamental, is it? Didn't make the match, so I didn't see what happened."  
  
At this, Harry's expression darkened.  
  
"Was always a football person, myself," he continued. "My brother, Garrett, plays at Eton. Pretty damn good, if you ask me."  
  
Harry's expression got darker, if possible. He didn't understand how someone couldn't like Quidditch, even a little bit. The expression he was making must have looked odd, due to the dilapidated condition of the right side of his face. Justin cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable.  
  
"What I was here for was Hermione. Has she been around?" He eyed the textbooks on the table and saw the one he pulled off the shelf the day before for Hermione.  
  
"Yes, she was here," Harry said, mood not improving. "What should I tell her when she gets back?" He wanted Justin to leave as soon as possible.  
  
"Well, I can wait. It is no problem, really." He started to sit down in Hermione's chair.  
  
"Well, the thing is, she went to talk to a professor or something," he lied. "I really have no idea when she'll be back, you know how she is about those things."  
  
Justin stood up and laughed. "Yes, always going the extra mile, Hermione. Could you just tell her I wanted to start rounds a little later tonight? I have a study group I need to attend, and I think it may go late. I think I'll be done around 10.30. I don't want her to think that I abandoned her."  
  
Again, Harry glowered. "Yeah, got it. I'll tell her." To signify the conversation was over, he picked up his magazine and started to flip through it.  
  
Justin must have gotten the point, because he turned around to leave. "Well, I'll see you, Potter."  
  
"Yeah," Harry grunted.  
  
Once Harry heard the door click, he tossed the magazine aside, frustrated. THE NERVE! OF FLETCHY! Stomping around, looking for 'Mione, and practically insulting Quidditch. 'Worried to hear about your *accident.*' He'd show him accident! If he only knew one TENTH of the things Harry'd been though, Justin Finch-Fletchy would have wet his pants. 'Was always a football person, myself.' The nerve!! Dean was a football fan, but at least he ATTENDED the matches. At least he APPRECIATED the best sport in the wizarding world. Merlin! Where'd that boy come from? And about his FIREBOLT!! TEMPERAMENTAL? He trusted that broom almost as much as he trusted Hermione and Ron. The NERVE! What a prat.  
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, glasses in hand. He didn't hear her enter the room and was taken off guard.  
  
"Wha--, oh, its you, 'Mione. I thought you were someone else."  
  
"Nope, just plain old Hermione." She started looking for quills.  
  
"'Mione, you're not plain."  
  
She looked up. "Hmmm? Oh, here are your glasses. I repaired them for you, the arm was broken and the lens cracked. They were under the bleachers."  
  
"Thanks," he said, as he put them on. His vision was clearer instantly.  
  
"You're welcome. You know, after Hogwarts, you should really consider contacts and stop hiding your eyes. They're such an unusual shade. It will save you a lot of trouble." She looked at him, and he was blushing, though she couldn't figure out why. She changed the subject. "Let's get started. I need to leave for rounds by 8.45."  
  
Harry knew that, of course, as he was Head Boy as well, but it reminded him of Finch-Fletchy. "Fletchy wants to meet you later, instead of 9, at 10.30. He was by looking for you."  
  
'Oh, I guess we do have time, then. I don't know if that will work. The new 'lights-out' policy goes into effect at 11. I'm sure that Head Girl and Boy are exempt, though.  
  
The lights-out policy, as Hermione explained, was requested by the Aurors to ensure that no one was out of bed at unsightly hours.  
  
They got to work and talked little, only when they came across something the other might have found of interest. Harry greatly appreciated Hermione's company, and she realized how much she missed studying with him during the Quidditch season. All too soon, 10.15 came around, and it was time for Hermione to head towards the Great Hall to meet Justin.  
  
"I'll be here tomorrow. Ron and I will see you during our free hour after lunch, and I'll be here again after dinner, okay?"  
  
"Sure, 'Mione, thanks."  
  
"No problem. Goodnight." She smiled at him as she grabbed her books and headed out of the room.  
  
Madam Pomfrey came in minutes after Hermione left and started preparing Harry for bed. His work wasn't finished, but he remembered that he would have all day tomorrow to work on it.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Hermione was out of breath as she raced from the hospital wing to Gryffindor Tower (to grab her badge, she had removed it when she changed out of her dirty Herbology robes) then to the Great Hall. She was a few minutes early, and Justin was already there waiting for her. He allowed her to catch her breath, and they set off for the dungeons.  
  
It always gave Hermione a creepy feeling to be down in those dank hallways at night. As Justin and Hermione poked their heads into each classroom, Hermione told Justin about the time she and Harry caught Mickey Robbins, the Slytherin Beater, snogging with a Ravenclaw girl. They chose not to take away House points; it was embarrassing enough for the two that they were caught disgracefully with each other. Slytherins and Ravenclaws didn't mix, and their reputations would have been ruined if the truth had gotten out. The two were so wrapped up in each other that the Ravenclaw's Muggle retainer ended up in her hair.  
  
After Hermione finished the story, Justin let out a huge resounding laugh that was out of place in the cold passageway. As he laughed, the torches lighting their way increased with intensity, and when he finished, the flames returned to their dull ambiance. For a moment, the chill of the damp stone was gone, and it felt as though they weren't in Slytherin territory. It was nice, hearing a full laugh like that.  
  
They made their way about their rounds, mainly with Justin telling some funny Hufflepuff stories or some charming tale of how his Muggle family adjusted to his magical aptitude. It wasn't as bad as Hermione thought, working with Justin. She -was- glad for the company, but missed the long talks she had with Harry. Even though she was having a nice time, she missed his company dearly.  
  
They finished their duties with a walk around the grounds, focusing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. As they steered clear of the Whomping Willow, Hermione told Justin how Harry had found a little boy, a first-year Gryffindor named Reuben Spencer, in the Forest at the start of the term. He and Hermione were walking right where she and Justin were at that moment when Harry heard Reuben's cry for help:  
  
"So, I was wondering what kind of schooling one takes after Hogwarts, 'Mione. What kind of further training does one need? I know Percy jumped right into the Ministry…"  
  
"Well, it really depends on what you intend to go into. If it is wizarding medicine, for exam--"  
  
"Shhh," Harry cut her off sharply. "Did you hear that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"That noise… It sounds… There it is again! Let's go!"  
  
"Harry!" Hermione called, but it was no use. He'd already headed for the thick of the Forest. Hermione had no choice but to follow him.  
  
"Lumos."  
  
When she caught up to him, he had stopped and his ear was to the ground.  
  
"Harry, what on Ear--"  
  
Then she heard it too. A faint cry was coming from underground. There was a hole not too far away.  
  
Harry and Hermione raced toward it and shone their wands down. Right below them was Reuben Spencer. He had fallen into the deep pit and a tree root caught his foot. Harry visibly paled as he saw at least one hundred serpents coiling ten feet below the boy. There was no time to get help and the branch looked as though it could give way any second.  
  
"It's Reuben, isn't it? Reuben! Reuben! I need you to stop shouting," Harry called authoritatively. "Reuben, stop squirming, you're making it worse." He turned to Hermione. There's no time to go for help, and we don't know how to Conjure yet. Here's what we'll do." Harry explained that he would lower Hermione down into the pit, and she would grab hold of Reuben's ankle. Harry would then pull them out.  
  
Below them, as Hermione removed her outer cloak and robe (she was wearing a sweater and jeans) so that it would not obstruct her view, Reuben continued to be near hysterics.  
  
"Harry, it's the snakes. He's upset about the snakes."  
  
"Of course."  
  
In the few moments that followed, Harry hissed and spat until the snakes stopped moving. Reuben was in awe and he finally calmed down. Harry looked at Hermione, he thought she looked scared. He gave her a quick hug and whispered, "We'll be fine." Then he lowered her down into the hollow, and within a minute, Reuben was safely above ground.  
  
From that moment on, Reuben hero-worshipped Harry. Harry lectured him sternly and it turned out that he followed his toad out to the Forest. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Reuben were related to Neville Longbottom.  
  
They had the pit boarded over the next day. Reuben lost Gryffindor House thirty points, but Harry and Hermione earned 100 together for the rescue.  
  
Justin was in awe of the story. "Wow. I guess Dumbledore wasn't kidding when he said it was deadly in there."  
  
"I know," Hermione said, as they made their way back to the castle. "I never want to go in there again, if I don't have to."  
  
"No doubt."  
  
They walked in silence for a bit and as they neared the castle, Justin turned to Hermione and asked, "Do you know what it was Harry said to the snakes?"  
  
This truly stumped her and caught her off guard. "No, I don't." Then she chuckled. "I think Harry told them a joke or something. He was smiling, and his eyes sparkled as they do when he teases someone. I think I'll have to ask him that sometime."  
  
"Mmmh. Really eerie trait, you know, being a Parselmouth. No one really knows what goes on with that. I wonder what he said back during the Dueling Club, in second year."  
  
Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "What?!?" She turned to him, incredulous. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
Justin saw that he had touched a nerve, although he had no idea what caused it. "Well, just that he has been the only known one for a long time, there is no way to tell what he said. Just curious, I guess."  
  
"What do you think he said?"  
  
"That is what I mean, I have no idea."  
  
"You must have some idea. I mean, the snake stopped pursuing you, but only after Harry said something. So what does that tell you? Let's be honest here." By this time, she had stopped completely and turned to face Justin. Her hands were on her hips and she was completely ominous looking.  
  
Justin was shocked. "Well, Ernie and Hann--," he started.  
  
"No," Hermione cut him off. "You listened to the wrong people. Harry was only trying to help, and I –promise- you, he had no idea he was a Parselmouth until that evening."  
  
"Well," he began and thought better of it. "Never mind. Let's go back to the castle, it's late."  
  
Hermione agreed, and as they reached the Great Hall, she bid him goodnight. "I'll take care of the paperwork in the Prefect Office."  
  
"Good night, Hermione."  
  
"'Night, Justin."  
  
She headed for the Prefect Office to fill out papers for the evening, locked it, and went to the hospital wing. She had left in a hurry and wanted to make sure she had grabbed all her books. It was late, about 1 am, and she didn't plan on lingering. She tiptoed into the chamber and found Harry asleep. The light of the waning moon pooled over him as he lay on his stomach, back softly rising with the intake of each breath. The white sheet contrasted heavily with the bruises on his back. His stormy hair gave off a peculiar hue from the light of the moon. Hermione sat next to him and brushed the bangs off his forehead.  
  
She began thinking things over. She had never given that night in the Forbidden Forest a second thought until now. How brave Harry had been. How quickly he'd taken charge. It was moments like that that proved he was the best choice for Head Boy. Hermione was glad he was out there with her. His quick thinking meant the difference between a successful evening and disaster.  
  
~*^*~  
  
At three in the morning, Poppy Pomfrey got up for a glass of water and found Hermione asleep in a chair. She was surprised to see her, especially because she knew Miss Granger was aware of the visitation hours. Madam Pomfrey shook Hermione awake, put a finger to her lips and motioned for Hermione to follow her.  
  
As soon as they stepped outside, Hermione began: "Madam Pomfrey, I came to see if I had left anything behind, and I fell asleep.'  
  
"I understand that, Miss Granger. I just don't expect you to break my rules. Please abide by them from now on. Anything you needed tonight can wait until the morning. Now go."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Good night."  
  
"Goodnight, Miss Granger."  
  
As Hermione exited the hospital wing, Poppy Pomfrey checked her patients, got her glass of water and went back to bed.  
  
~*^*~  
  
Hermione climbed the stairs to her tower, gave the Fat Lady the password (l'Écosse), and went to bed. For her, it was the end of a very long Monday.  
  
^^^^^^  
  
Read and Review. I appreciate all criticism.  
  
^^^^^^  
  
A/N: I think you all got a bit too worried about Malfoy in the last chapter. Don't worry. That manifests into nothing.  
  
A/T: Stinky and Sierra. Thanks. Stinky, you make me laugh with every "Huh? No, no, start over." Sierra, I am glad you discovered Harry. You can borrow my set any time. And Bio2chick, thanks for telling me how to fix my nose.  
  
enoimreH: You're too kind. I am happy that you like the story. That means I am doing ok.  
  
Dork Bunnie: Cute name, nice reviews. Thanks.  
  
Babooshka: OOO-RAH, buddy!! Ooo-Rah!  
  
NAPPA: You're excellent. 


	14. Ch. 14, Prefect Duties Defined and Disre...

A/N: Thanks to Bonnie, my beta-reader, for all the help she has given me. Also, please remember that 'football' in Europe is American soccer. 

Disclaimer:  Harry Potter and his world are owned by the talented Jo Rowling.  God Bless JK, and please, hurry with OotP!

Chapter Fourteen: Prefect Duties Defined and Disregarded 

          Hermione awoke on Tuesday morning with the shrill of her alarm at 6.15.

          "For cripe's sake, Granger, some of us USE beauty sleep.  Turn it off!  We don't have class till 8.30!" Either Parvati or Lavender groaned.

          Hermione didn't particularly care as she flipped her alarm off and lay there in bed collecting herself.  _Some of us USE beauty sleep! Well, Hermione knew she was not a beauty queen, her hair was too bushy for her tastes, and she felt terribly common with her brown hair and eyes.  She wasn't about to fuss over herself.  Let Lavender and Parvati be shallow, she didn't have the time.  She opened her bed curtains and was happy to see that the room was still dim.  __Winter is coming, she thought cheerfully.  She reached for her wrapper, stroked Crookshanks and headed for the Prefect bathroom.  One perk about being Head Girl was not having to share a bathroom with her roommates any more.  She liked hot water as much as the next person and four years without it had been enough._

          The next day progressed as any Tuesday should.  Students were still whispering about Harry's condition and such, but nothing extraordinary.  After lunch, Ron and Hermione went and visited him.  They had a nice afternoon filled with Exploding Snap, until Madam Pomfrey took that away, 'Not in the hospital wing,' she had said.  Then they had a nice afternoon filled with wizard's chess.  Ron easily beat Hermione, but with Harry, he had a harder time.  When it was Harry and Hermione's chance to play, she surprised everyone and won, a rare occurrence indeed.

          Harry found it amusing to watch Hermione concentrate so fully on something so trivial.  After biting her lip for what seemed hours, and twirling a lock of her hair, she smiled:  "Knight to E8," Hermione called.  Ron's jaw dropped.

          "That's checkmate, 'Mione.   I never thought I'd see the day." 

          "I won?"

          "You've got me.  You really won.  Congratulations."  Harry smiled.  

          Hermione was astonished at herself.  "I did win, didn't I?" she asked, truly pleased.  Then she looked from Harry's face to Ron's and got suspicious.  "You gave that to me, didn't you, Harry?"  She glanced at Ron, who had finally closed his mouth and was looking at the ceiling.  "Ron, did he throw the game?  Did he?"

          He scratched his red head, bemused.  "I have no idea.  Come on, we have Astronomy Lecture in ten minutes; we'll have to run."  He stood up.  "Bye, Harry," Ron said, a little to cheerfully.  "See you later!"

          "Bye, 'Mione, Ron.  Great game!"

          "Did you let me win?" Hermione called as Ron pulled her to the door.  "Did you?"

          Harry laughed.  "Good-bye, Hermione.  Have a good class."  He laughed again as the door shut.  Sometimes it was more fun to lose.

          ~*^*~

          Hermione returned later in the evening, slightly miffed at Harry for letting her win.  Harry supposed Ron let it slip that he'd unnecessarily sacrificed a few pieces.  Oh well, it was worth it.

          "Here's the work for today.  I'm sorry, but I have to run.  I desperately need some library time, Harry.  I'll see you later."  She turned and left.

          "Bye."  Harry was left all alone again.  He couldn't wait to get out of this hospital wing.  He heard activity from the Quidditch pitch from his bed.  _Well, __maybe I should be watching so I can keep up with progress.  He pulled on a robe and walked painfully to the window, where he saw Ron running the Beaters in drills.  His Chasers, he was happy to see, were playing a Bludger-full-Quidditch version of the three-man weave.  The team looked good, although it seemed that Creevey's broom could stand to be serviced.  _

          Ron stopped by after practice and talked with Harry for a bit.  Harry mentioned Dennis' broom and a last minute practice he wanted on Saturday.  Even though there was a Hogsmeade trip scheduled, they would return early and go over the Ravenclaw defense that Harry concocted that week.  He used every possible opportunity to be 'like Oliver.'  They _were going to win the Cup this year._

          ~*^*~

          Hermione, on the other hand, was so engrossed with her work at the library that she nearly forgot to meet Justin in the Great Hall for rounds that night.  She was halfway through the Seventies with plotting the Dark Lord's attacks, and had to pace herself.  She didn't want to get carried away and miss something.

          Justin kept her in stitches that evening; he was incredibly witty.  It made Hermione regret that there was so little House interaction.  She surely wouldn't have gotten to know him if it hadn't been for him substituting for Harry.  At least when this week was over (she thought Harry was being released early Saturday), she'd have had the chance to make Justin's acquaintance.  

          They hurried though rounds because Hermione wanted to look over her Transfiguration paper one last time before it was due.

          Tuesday led to Wednesday and to two announcements.  The Yule Ball was going to return, even though the Tri-Wizard Tournament was not taking place, and that Ginny Weasley would be arriving Friday afternoon.  Charlie and his sister would be traveling as Muggles from Boston Logan to London-Heathrow, then taking the Express to Hogwarts.  

          The school was again buzzing, but this time with news of the Ball.  It seemed Dumbledore thought the first Ball was a success and wanted to keep with the tradition of having it every three years.  McGonagall, of course, would not disagree with him.  Lavender and Parvati were practically in fits, and everyone was grateful for the trip to Hogsmeade to visit Gladrags Wizard Wear and other boutiques in the village.  

          The announcement was made at lunch and when Hermione and Ron told Harry, he rolled his eyes.  Harry's Yule Ball experience had been most unpleasant fourth year.  It was so unpleasant he almost didn't want to go.  The only person he could think of wanting to take was Hermione, but that was out of the question.  First off, Ron, still, after all these years, had a thing for her.  Secondly, it wasn't in Hermione's best interest to date Harry.  His dreams had been filled lately with visions of a rat with a silver paw scurrying around the castle.  He knew it was only a dream, but he couldn't help feeling that he and his friends were being watched.

          "Harry, Harry? Are you listening to me?"

          He snapped out of his reverie.  "Huh?  Oh, sorry, 'Mione, lost in thought."

          "Well, there is a first time for everything."

          "Hey, now!  Have a bit of pity on the injured!" Harry teased.  "Now, Miss Granger, what were talking about?  I am ready to listen now."

          "As I was saying," Hermione began, as Ron snickered, "McGonagall says since there are no Champions to open the Ball, the Prefects and Head Officers must do so.  We have to open with the Hogwarts Waltz.  Professor Flitwick offered to teach us today, as we have to lead it.  After you're out of here, of course.  And we have a little over a month to learn it, we're in good shape."

          Harry swallowed.  Ron turned red and blurted out:  "You don't have to go together, do you?  It is just one dance, right?"

          "Well, yes, Ron, like I said, Harry and I have to enter together, open the Ball, and the Prefects follow suit. Other than that, he only escorts me for the first dance," she explained to him.  "Harry, you don't have a problem with that, do you?"  She looked at her hands so he wouldn't know how much she longed to dance with him.

          "No, no problem at all."  He mentally sighed.  _This is going to be harder than I thought.  "You said Flitwick would teach us?  Then it won't be a total disaster."  He caught sight of Ron, whose face now matched his fiery hair.  __Poor Ron.  "Just as long as I don't take that nightmare Parvati Patil again.  Oh, yes.  She digs that grave up at least once a month. 'Oh, I just had the finest time with Harry at the Yule Ball.'" He imitated in a false upper-class accent.  "It took her a year to cool off from how I didn't dance with her.  Oh, man, anything but her."_

          Hermione sighed.  She shot a sideways look at Ron and saw him with that somber face again.  She inwardly groaned and thought it best to change the subject.  "So, Harry, how's your therapy going?  When will you be back to Quidditch?"

          "Pretty well.  I almost have full movement in my back now, and I am not nearly as stiff as I was Monday.  Pomfrey keeps using muscle-stretching charms, and it wears me out.  We're going to have practice Saturday, but in the afternoon.  I think most of the team wants to go to Hogsmeade."

          "Hmmm…" Hermione looked at her watch.  "Well, I have Independent Potions now, so I'll see you later."  She left.

          "Bye, 'Mione," Harry called.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.  Ron's look was expecting.

"What?" Harry asked.  Ron looked as though he just may burst if he didn't get something off his chest.  "What?" He repeated after a moment when Ron didn't answer.

"Well, do you think that I should ask her?"

"Who, Ron?" Harry said a little impatiently.

"Blimey, Harry!  Do I have to spell everything out for you?  Hermione!"

"To the Yule Ball?"

"_Yes, Harry."_

"Well, not as a last resort, that is for sure," he said, remembering the 'blazing row' they had three years ago.

"Really?"  Ron looked anxious.

"You know, Ron," Harry said, fully frustrated now and desperately trying to hide it. "You probably should have acted on your feelings before this.  Maybe 'Mione's forgotten about fourth year."

"What do you mean?  Don't you think she'd go with me?"  Ron panicked.

_No, I don't.  "I'm not saying yes or no either way, but maybe she got tired of waiting, you know.  I think she mentioned some Muggle boyfriend once.  Jake, Jeremy, or Geoff, something like that.  Bloody hell, Ron!  I have no idea!" Harry was desperately trying to hold his temper, why did this make him so upset?_

_Because you want to take her to the Ball, you prat._

"Well, I think I am going to ask her."

"Now, there's a thought," Harry muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing.  Good luck.  When are you going to ask her?"  

"Not soon.  I have to work myself up for stuff like this."

"Ron!" Harry practically yelled.  "You are in Gryffindor House.  Does 'bravery' ring a bell?  Hello?  Just do it!"  _W__hat am I saying?_

"Well, I don't know.  Sunday, I'll ask her Sunday," Ron said, with little conviction.

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was a stiff silence.

"Who're you taking, mate?" Ron questioned.

"You want to know who I am taking to the Ball?"

"Yeah, fair's fair, right?"

"No one," Harry said, without blinking.

Ron did a double take.  "What?  Why not?"

"I think I am just going to escort 'Mione and then get out of there.  You know how I hate that kind of thing."

"You mean you're not going to take anyone?"

"That is what I said, Ron."

"Man, you got to know girls will be hounding you left and right.  I bet Parvati will ask you to go this time.  You'd better watch out."

"So, what should I do?  Feign food poisoning or something?  Come on, now!"

"Tell them," Ron thought deeply.  "Tell everyone Cho's coming back for a second chance or something.  You did ask her years ago, maybe just tell everyone that she suddenly couldn't make it."

"Ron, Owl Post is out.  No one would believe that."

"You can 'send' a letter from Hogsmeade Saturday and tell everyone you did.  Then, on Christmas, pretend to be rejected when she doesn't show up, and bugger off."  Harry looked skeptical.  He didn't like the idea of lying.  "Its solid gold, mate!  No one will know the difference."  He stopped and though a bit.  "Will be sad, though, you missing out on the Yule Ball.  It will be the last one before graduation, I bet."

Harry took this into consideration.  "Yeah, but I am not magic on the dance floor, you know.    It is a good thing Flitwick is helping me."

"You can't be any worse than Neville.  My sister's feet were bruised after she danced with him."

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Ron, grimacing upon reflection.

"Well, then that is settled.  Thanks, Ron."

"No problem, mate.  I have to run, class, you know?"

"Sure, see you."  Ron left the hospital wing.

His shoulders drooped the second he heard the door click. Ron was finally going to say something to her.  It was about damn time, honestly.  He'd been moping around like a lovesick puppy off and on for the past few years.  If Hermione reflected Ron's affections, the only thing that was evident to Harry was Hermione was never going to make the first move.  Definitely not.  That gave Harry a bit of hope.  He knew it was terrible, being Ron's best friend and still feeling the way he did about this.  If Hermione wouldn't make the first move (she was aggressive, just not when romantically concerned, as far as Harry knew) then it was up to Ron.  Harry knew the Second Coming happening tomorrow was more likely than Ron getting the gall up to actually ask her out before someone else did.  There were three days between now and Sunday, someone was bound to ask her before Ron.

Harry was truly disgusted with himself for feeling this way against his best bud… Hell--Ron was like his brother.  Yes, Harry was very disgusted with himself.

Then the thought crossed Harry's mind that maybe 'Mione would be holding out for Ron to ask her.  They would most definitely go together then, Ron would ask her eventually…

_Potter! He lectured himself, __Forget it, man!  It is out of your hands now!  Hermione is out of your league!  Forget about it!  Damn._

Sometimes, Harry really hated his inner voice.  

~*^*~

Wednesday night and all of Thursday were pretty regular.  Dull.  Harry played enough Exploding Snap to last him a few years if you judged from his burned fingertips and Ron's singed hair; it was most amusing.

Fletchley had been around looking for Hermione again on Thursday.  Harry was starting to seriously dislike that boy.

"Hey, Potter.  How're you holding up?"

"Fine, Fletchley, just fine.  I get out of here Saturday, if Pomfrey will allow it, anything to get out of here."

"I hear you, buddy."  _Don't call me 'buddy.' "The time I spent Petrified here, second year," Justin continued, "Man, I definitely had had enough of this place."  __You were PETRIFIED, you jackass.  That means you DO NOT RECALL BEING BORED OUT OF YOUR MIND, as you have NO RECOLLECTION OF TIME SPENT WHILE IN THAT CONDITION!_

"I bet," Harry replied.

"So, I know this will sound brainless of me," Justin said.  _I bet it will.  "But, do you know where Herm is?"  __Herm?  Oh, Merlin__._

"Did you try the library?"

"Yes, she is not there."

"What is today?  Thursday?  Let's see."  Harry turned toward the clock, giving Justin a fine view of his cuts and deep bruises.  "6.15.  She should be tutoring a group of second-year students in the Transfiguration laboratory."

"Thanks, Harry."

"You know, she will be done by seven.  You really shouldn't distract her."

"Sure thing, Potter, thanks."

"No problem."  What was he?  Some lost dog?  Merlin!  Harry'd wager that Justin would keep a leash on her if he could!  Honestly, if Harry behaved like that, tracking her down at every question, she'd throw him in the lake and leave him to fight the Giant Squid!

"I know it is not my business, Fletchley, but what is it about?  You know, if it is a Head Boy question, you can ask the Head Boy," Harry said as patiently as possible.

"Well, you're not He--, actually, I need to push rounds back again and need to tell her."

Did he just start to say what Harry thought he did?  For that boy's good health, he surely hoped not.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this," Harry said.  _Actually, I couldn't care less about what you mind or don't mind; I am going to say this, regardless of your opinion.  "To be Head Boy, even for a week, you have to make certain sacrifices.  Such as, after a schedule is made, you do not disrupt it."_

"That schedule is yours and Hermione's.  Not mine."

Harry was livid.  "Wrong.  In agreeing to a Prefect's duties, in the near event that one of a higher office cannot perform duties momentarily, the Prefect will adjust his or her schedule to compliment that of the other Head Officer.  Check your rulebook, Fletchley.  It is inconsiderate of you to expect Hermione to adjust, inconveniencing her, when it is _you that should be inconvenienced.  __You are the one who agreed to step in for me and follow the original schedule!"  Harry's face was red._

"Don't get upset, Potter.  I am sure Herm won't mind."

_Herm?_

"Whatever, she's in the Transfiguration lab."

"Thanks."  Justin walked to the door.

Harry had a change of heart.  "Justin, hold on a second."  Harry swung his legs out of bed and stiffly walked to the blond boy.  Harry was a few inches shorter than Justin was, but he did not appear subordinate to him.  His build equaled that of Justin the football player, and even in his broken state Harry matched him.

"Fletchley," Harry began, "I truly appreciate," he cleared his throat before continuing, "you covering for me. Not for my sake, really, but for Hermione's.  She wanted to do this week on her own, and she works too hard as it is.  Your being there has alleviated a lot of predictable stress on her part.  She wouldn't admit it if you asked her, but you have, and for that I am grateful," Harry said humbly and stuck his hand out.

Justin shook it.  "Hey, Potter, it is my pleasure.  Herm's a lot of fun.  I am glad to see she has a good friend like you looking out for her."

"We're best friends."

"I thought Ron Weasley was your best friend."

"They both are."

Silence.

"Oh.  Well, I'll see you around, then.  Transfiguration lab?"  Harry nodded.  Justin turned and left.

Harry walked away from the door, and began work on his physical therapy exercises to vent steam.  He was going to get out of there by tonight, if he could help it.  It was time to end this Fletchley nonsense.  Of course, he knew he was stuck there until he got the 'all-clear,' but he could hope, right?

As Harry stood lifting free weights, he reflected on the conversation that just took place.  He didn't think he was wrong by getting on Justin's case about switching the schedule.  It _was in the Prefect book, so there shouldn't have been a problem.  Harry couldn't __believe that this was the second time in a week that the boy needed to reschedule!  That was totally unacceptable._

What bothered him the most, what irked him to unbelievable levels about that git was that he called Hermione _'Herm.'__  He HATED that!  Every time he heard it, he couldn't help but think about things un-Hermione related.  Like, hmm… __Hermaphrodite, for example.  Let's be honest here, Hermione was really too pretty to be in the same thought pattern as 'hermaphrodite.'  The very thought that Justin Finch-Fletchley found 'Herm' to be a suitable sobriquet was mortifying._

Harry finished with all his reps, stretches, etc., took a shower and tried to talk himself into another 'exciting' night chocked full of studying alone.

~*^*~

Hermione was helping about seven young boys and girls transfigure stuffed rabbits into real rabbits.

"Now, Jamie, you have to _visualize the hopping rabbit.  Watch again."  Hermione raised her wand to perform the spell when she heard a knock on the lab door._

"One moment, please," she called.  "Keep practicing your wand swishing."  She opened the door to find Justin Finch-Fletchley standing there.

"Hello, Justin."  She turned to the students.  "That is it, Andy!  Keep it up!"  Hermione looked at her watch and then to Justin.  "I am sorry, but can this wait fifteen minutes?  I have got these guys until seven."

"Sure.  I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, looking slightly put off.  She shut the door and continued with her session.  When time was up, four students accomplished actual hopping stuffed animals and the others had moving tails and twitching whiskers.  Hermione was very pleased.

"See, Jamie?  It worked!  Next week, we'll finish with complete transfiguration.  It will be hard, but you will be able to do it!   I'm so proud of you!"

"Bye-bye, Hermione," chorused a mix of the four houses.

"Bye!  You all did great!"  She ushered them out of the lab.  _"Magnus nox."  The lights in the room went out.  She locked the door behind her._

"Wow, Herm.  Was that a remedial session?  I saw a bit of what you were doing.  They looked good," Justin admitted.

"Oh, goodness, no.  They're advanced.  Remember when we did tortoise-teapot transfiguring in third year? This is just as difficult, and they are second years.  I do this tutoring to put me in the Independent Study of this class, but this way; I still get to be in a class.  Actually, I do this for most of my classes…  It is no fun being all by yourself." She started walking to the library.  "So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I hate to ask this, but I was wondering if we could bump back an hour tonight?" Justin asked tentatively.

"Oh, gosh, Justin.  I'm sorry, but Thursdays leave me with an incredibly tight schedule.  I can't."  

"Oh, well, I guess I can't make it tonight then."

"What?"  She stopped dead in the hallway.

"I am really, very sorry, Herm.  I wasn't able to reschedule.  I'm sorry."

She shook her head.  "Its nothing.  I can manage it on my own." She continued on her path to the library.  _Hufflepuffs are loyal.  Hufflepuffs are incredibly loyal.  I have to try to understand this.  She stopped again, her slight frame unpaired next to his tall one.  "Justin, I hate to bring this up, because soon Harry will be back on rounds with me and then it won't matter.  As the temporary for Head Boy, you're supposed to conform to the present rounds-duties schedule.  That means __you cancel or reschedule conflicts.  Harry and I already had something that worked really well for us.  Rarely did we ever have to postpone rounds, and we both have an enormous amount of responsibilities outside of this one.  I hate to sound selfish here, but it is my right to keep the schedule as it is.  You do know that this could go on your record as failure to comply to Prefect duties?"_

Justin sighed.  "Yes, and I am sorry, Hermione.  I can't reschedule.  I truly can't."

"Are you aware that we have to prepare for a student returning to Hogwarts tonight?   Virginia Weasley will be arriving tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, I really can't say that enough.  What can I do to make it up to you?"

Hermione grew tired of the whole conversation.  _Loyal Hufflepuffs, loyal Hufflepuffs, she kept repeating to herself.  She shook her head again.  "Nothing, really.  Well, you could tell me what it is that you can't cancel."  She looked at her watch.  She was very behind schedule now, how was she ever going to get everything done?  Rounds would take her an extra hour by herself, what with the boys' dormitories and all._

"Saturday is the start of a tournament in Hogsmeade, for football, and Hogwarts has a pick-up team entering.  I am the Captain, and you see, we have to practice.  I promised them first, and this is something the team has been waiting for all term.  I can't leave them."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears.  Football practice.  _Loyal Hufflepuffs, her brain started again.  Harry had skipped Quidditch practice before to do the imperative parts of nightly rounds.  She had been incredibly surprised at that.  'This is more important, 'Mione,' he had said.  Admittedly, that was the quickest they had ever done rounds, but so far, he had never missed until this week._

"Well, good luck.  I am sure I will see some it Saturday, when I am in Hogsmeade."

"Thanks, Herm.  I'm really sorry."

"Don't mention it."

Justin headed toward his dormitory, presumably to change.  Hermione looked at her watch again and sighed.  She went to the library to drop off her things and read more on lethifolds.  At 8.00, she went to see Harry about the passwords to the boys' dormitories.  She did not want to haul herself up to the Prefect office until she had to.  She was already tired, and that was not a good sign.  She still had a long way to go.

~*^*~

As Hermione entered the hospital wing, she saw Harry emerging from the bathroom toweling his hair.  She guessed that he just showered and could smell the scent of wind that never seemed to leave him, of almonds and of something that was just distinctively _Harry, and suddenly, she wasn't so tired anymore._

"Hey, you!"

"'Mione?  What're you doing here?  Not that I am not pleased to see you, but it is rare to see you at this hour on a Thursday.  You're not scheduled to see me for thirty minutes," he said, as he finished toweling his head.

"Charming, Harry," Hermione said, laughing at the state of his hair.  "As a matter of fact, I need four passwords.  You see… I'm too lazy to climb three more flights of stairs. And you know how they can be so moody at this time of day.  I don't want to put up with them.  Could you help me out?"

"Yeah, let me write them down for you.  Ravenclaw is 'Scottish Rose.'  Boot is a romantic.   Slytherin is, you won't believe this.  'Malfoy's house of unbearable pain, Tinkerbell speaking.'  It's like Sir Cadogan, with a twisted sense of humor.  Of course, _Prefect Draco picked it.  It figures."  Hermione laughed.  "Now, that is more like the 'Mione I know.  Tell me why you need these, or I won't give you the last two."_

Hermione sighed.  "Justin had prior engagements, I guess.  You know how Hufflepuffs can be."

"What?  He's not going on rounds with you?"

"No.  He's not.  He couldn't.  I can't reschedule and shouldn't be expected to, so I am going it alone tonight. I also wanted to get some extra work done in the Astronomy lab tonight, I am going to be up late as it is."

"Well, I admit, 'Mione, that is a good enough reason.  I should sneak out of here and help you, at least with the dormitories.  Let me grab a robe."  He looked around for a school robe, and of course found none.

"Oh, no you don't, Harry Potter.  You need rest, and I don't think you're going to get it climbing stairs.  So don't try me," she warned, eyes sparkling.  It was times like these that Harry wanted to kiss her without abandon.  "You may be able to out-duel me, but not by much, and I am not afraid to curse you, contrary to popular belief."

"You've got me again, 'Mione.  Just skip working in the AstroLab tonight.  I bet Professor Sinistra won't miss you.  If you hadn't noticed, it was cloudy today, and it still is outside.  You won't see anything out of the telescopes tonight."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed the clouds today.  Is it cloudy?"  Harry just laughed at her.  "You're right, Sinistra wouldn't notice."

"Go to Gryffindor Tower first, and get my Marauder's Map.  It will speed your night up considerably.  It is in my trunk, under the Invisibility Cloak.  Just remember to clear it after you're finished with it."

"Thanks, Harry.  The only problem is that I can't get into your trunk without the _password to your dormitory." She tapped her wand on her leg as though she were impatient with him.  She held her hand out, and in her best Fat Lady impression, said: "Passwords."  _

Harry grinned as he filled out the paper.  "Hufflepuff is 'Scholastic Sorceress.'  And, oh, which one am I missing here?  Ah, yes, Gryffindor.  Now, what is that password?  I hear the guy who makes them up is a real loser."

_Not on your life, Potter.  "Yeah, tell me about it."_

Harry laughed again.  "Gryffindor, that would be 'vicious vixen veela.'"  Hermione stopped tapping her wand to stare at him.  "Don't look at me!  Blame the fourth years!  It was their turn for it!"  She still glared at him.  "Stop it!  I didn't make the password this time.  I thought it would be nice if I gave each year a chance to make one up."  She still scowled at him.  "Hey, at least it is not 'Potter's house of pleasure, Princess Polly at your service!'"

She had the oddest feeling that that was a password once, and that Harry was responsible for it.  She pursed her lips.  "Give me that paper."

"Yes ma'am."  She started heading out.  Harry called after her.  "Now, promise, no Astronomy Tower.  How do I know you won't be snogging some poor unsuspecting moron instead of reviewing your star charts?"

"You don't." She smiled evilly.  "Night."

"Good night, Hermione."

She exited the room and automatically felt better about everything.  That boy, honestly!  'Potter's house of pleasure!'  She chuckled and went about her task, wand in hand and ready to face the random staircases.

~*^*~

Harry shook his head after her retreating figure.  That girl!  She drove him mad sometimes!  He felt terrible that she had to do rounds alone.  The castle was enormous, and it was easy to get lost even after months of patterned rounds. At least she'd have the Marauder's Map to help her out. 

It upset him that Fletchley shirked his duties.  Harry didn't hear his reason, but he was sure it was lame and lacking.  He didn't plan on going to Hogsmeade on Saturday, maybe in the morning to get some dress robes, as he had outgrown his green ones. Nevertheless, he would be in the Prefect's Office going over the week's reports.  He would be sure to write that prat up.  Didn't being a Prefect mean anything to him?  Harry was sure that Fletchley's record was clean and there would only be a warning for this, but it was Harry's responsibility to report insubordination, and in this case, he would do it gladly.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

That is all for now, folks, please review!  Now you know why I think –'Mione- is the only suitable nickname for her… 

A/T:  enoimreH:  Thanks for all your support and concern!!  Sea Spots: Thanks for the advice with the Lotus, I will get around to it.  Stinky:   Miss ya, babe!  Egon:  Thanks for Stacy's permission! 


	15. Ch. 15, Hogsmeade Saturday

A/N:  Hello, readers!  Do you remember me?  Probably, you do not, as it has taken me a dog's age to finish this chapter.  I do hope you like it, so, sit down and enjoy the ride.  The amazing Stinky makes another amazing cameo!  Love ya lots! Thanks to my Beta, Bonnie!  Love ya, doll!  

Disclaimer:  JK Rowling, the goddess of all that is good in Wiz-fic, owns Harry Potter and associates. 'Stacy' belongs to Egon-Starcollector.  (Thanks, Alyce!)  Go read her Justin fic!!  I recommend it!  As always, God Bless JK and please, HURRY WITH OOTP!

Chapter Fifteen:  Hogsmeade Saturday

          Friday brought with it a chill in the air.   Overnight, frost had inched its way up the old panes of the windows adorning the castle, and the grounds became lightly dusted with frozen dew.  It made for a pretty sight that morning as students daydreamed their early classes away, staring absentmindedly out the windows.

          The afternoon sun ebbed the crystal topping away, and it was pleasant about the castle.  Hermione and Justin were standing in the entrance hall after lunch with Professor McGonagall waiting for the Weasleys' carriage to arrive.

          At precisely one o'clock, Charlie and Ginny Weasley stepped into the building.  "Ah, welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said.  "We are most pleased, Miss Weasley, to have you continue your education with us.  And you, Mr. Weasley, we are delighted that you agreed to teach here."

          "Thank you, Professor," Charlie said.  "By Merlin!  It is great to be back."  

McGonagall smiled a rare smile.  "Well, then, Miss Weasley, if you'd kindly stick with our head officers, I will take your brother to his office."

Ginny, who was searching in her bag for her wand, looked up.  "Thank you, Professor."  She glanced up at Hermione and Justin and started to look in her bag again, realized whom she had just seen, and did a double take.  Within a second, Ginny's arms were around Hermione, engaging her in what may have been the most strangling hug of her life.

"Hermione!!!  Is that you?  Oh, gosh, for a second there, I almost didn't recognize you, it's been so long!"  She pulled back to take Hermione in and saw the Head Girl badge.  "Oh, Hermione, I always knew you'd end up as Head Girl.  You just kind of have that look about you.  Very so much like Percy's Penelope."

"Well, look at yourself, Ginny!"  Hermione cried as she looked up to her.  "You're nearly as tall as Ron!  What did they feed you over there in the States?"

Ginny laughed.  "Steak and potatoes, I guess.  I'd never seen so much steak and potatoes in my life!  No, I am exaggerating, really, but we did eat a lot of steak.  Where is Ron, by the way?"  She was disappointed not to see him.

They started walking away from the entrance with Justin in tow.  "He's in class.  He wanted to skip, but I wouldn't let him." Hermione grinned.  "I threatened to take points away from Gryffindor if he did, but he almost skipped anyway.  He's missed you terribly."

"I've missed him too.  I never would have thought that I'd have missed the teasing he would give me.  Of course, Charlie tried his darnedest to keep up with it, but it just isn't the same."  She shook her head and turned to Justin.  "I take it you're a Prefect, from your badge, but McGonagall said 'head officers'.  Virginia Weasley, but you probably already knew from my red hair."  She stuck out her hand.  "My friends call me 'Ginny,' as I find 'Virginia' is too stuffy."

Justin took her hand and shook it.  Hermione reveled in her forwardness.  _She used to be so shy._  "I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley.  I'm standing in for the Head Boy, who is currently convalescing in the hospital wing."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that.  Lucky for you, though, right?  Who is the Head Boy?" she asked, turning again to Hermione.

"Harry's Head Boy," said Hermione.  "He had a Quidditch accident last Saturday.  He fell off his broom after the match."  Hermione shuddered.  "Oh, it was so terrible.  He'll be out soon, though."

Ginny was immediately lost in thought.  She had followed Harry's Quidditch playing too closely years before to take that at face value.  Thoughts of last Saturday filled her heart with much pain.  She missed her American friends very much, but was quite thankful to finally be home.

"Shall we get a move on, then?" Hermione asked, noting Ginny's silence.  She and Justin began to explain the new rules and the Auror situation at Hogwarts.  

Ginny listened patiently and was continually awed by all the new restrictions at her beloved school.  She could hardly believe it when Justin explained that the Owl Post had stopped delivery to Hogwarts.  

"But, how do you know everyone's alright?  How do you keep in touch?"

"You don't.  The trip to Hogsmeade will be the first time we've had a chance to read about anything.  I am going to buy every back issue of the Daily Prophet I can find," Hermione said.

Ginny nodded gravely.  Her Hogwarts had definitely changed.

Justin made his excuses as he headed off to class, leaving Hermione and Ginny to themselves.

"Well," Hermione said, noting her watch, "let's take you to see Madam Pomfrey.  You do have your medical record?"  Ginny nodded.  "The house elves are aware you've returned, so there is no need to go to the kitchens. You will be starting with classes on Monday."  She handed Ginny her course schedule.

Ginny scanned her parchment over as they walked to the hospital wing.  "This all looks great, I can't say I have missed Professor Binns and his History of Magic class, though.  I'm almost looking forward to Potions, even."  Hermione laughed.  "But, wait, Hermione.  I haven't had Herbology since third year.  They just didn't teach that kind of thing at SWI. You can go on to the university to learn about magical plants in the United States if you want to. It isn't an offered course there."

Hermione looked at Ginny thoughtfully.  "Oh, well, you'll just have to get a tutor, then, because I think you're expected to be at the sixth year level.  I would tutor you, but I am really, really busy this semester.  It isn't a problem, don't worry," she added quickly, noting the look on her face.  "Justin is in the advanced Herbology class, as well as Neville Longbottom.  You could ask one of them for help."

"Thanks, I will."  They started walking; Ginny shook her curly red head and laughed.  "Sixth years.  It is going to take me a while to get used to hearing English again, real English, I mean."

Hermione gave Ginny a quizzical look.  "At SWI, I was considered to be in the eleventh grade.  You see, they start counting when—," Ginny began, but Hermione interrupted.

"Oh, yes, I forgot.  I am familiar with the system.  I have a Muggle cousin, Stacy, who attends high school somewhere in the Great Lakes Region."  She looked plainly at Ginny.  "But, you must be a bit behind in everything.  School lasts longer here than in Massachusetts."  

"You're right," Ginny agreed, "but Charlie made me study over the holidays.  I think I should be up to top speed on everything, except Herbology, that is."  

Hermione smiled.  They had arrived at the entrance of the hospital wing.  "Well, here we are.  Let's see if Madam Pomfrey is here to take your record."  They stepped inside.

Instantly, the attention of the room was focused on the two girls, well, Ginny, mostly, as they were greeted with a chorus of 'hellos' from Harry and the nurse, and a loud 'whoop' from Ron.  In a matter of seconds, he has crossed the room, nearly knocking Hermione over, and pulled his sister into a great bear hug, lifting her off the ground, swinging her from side to side.  Ginny was quite helpless with her arms pinned down and could only say, 'Nice to see you, Ron,' breathlessly, as she was being held tight.  When he finally put her down, he planted a huge kiss on her forehead, said 'Nice to see you, too,' and grabbed her up again.

Hermione laughed, took the record from Ginny's hand and walked it over to Madam Pomfrey.  "I think he's glad to see her."

"Yeah, I'd say so," Harry said, pulling a t-shirt over his head.  Madam Pomfrey had just finished checking him over.  Harry was pleased because she had told him that he was free to go after one more night of observation.  "I'm out of here in the morning"

"That is great news!"  Hermione beamed at him.  "You're finally mended!  No permanent damage here, though, right?"  She placed two fingers on his upper right cheek, indicating his eye, which had, until that morning, been swollen shut.  

He lazily shut his eyes at her touch.  "None at all.  I can practice tomorrow.  I can't wait to fly my broom…  I could fly all day long."  

"You are going to Hogsmeade, though, right, mate?"  Ron had finally joined them.

"Yeah, I need new dress robes."  He turned to Ginny.  "Hello, Ginny, welcome back.  I'm sorry I wasn't with 'Mione to greet you, but, you know…" he trailed off, indicating the hospital bed.

Ginny blushed.  Harry Potter had never said that much to her at once in all her life!  Goodness!  It was great to be home!  She looked at the faded bruises on his face and forearms.  _That was more than an accident, if he has been here a week._  "Don't worry about it," she replied, still pink.

"Well, Ginny," Hermione said, noting her flushed cheeks, "let's go to the Tower.  I need to grab my books for class.  Bye, Harry.  I'll see you later.  Are you coming, Ron?"

"Yeah, see you Harry."

"Bye, 'Mione, Ron.  It was nice to see you again, Ginny," he said, politely.

"You too," she nearly stammered.

~*^*~

"…So, as I was saying, there is a trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow, and I need to go to Gladrags Wizard Wear to find some robes.  Do you have dress robes, or will you be needing some, too?"  Hermione asked Ginny as the three climbed the stairs.

"I'll need to get some.  We had a formal at Halloween, and I borrowed a set from my friend, Audrynn.   Is there a dance coming up?"

"Yes, the Yule Ball," Ron said.  "Hermione and Harry have to open it."

"Would you like to shop with me?" Hermione asked.

"I would love to."  They had reached the Fat Lady's portrait.  "What is the password?"

"Lion's share," said Hermione, and the Fat Lady swung her portrait open to reveal a common room nearly devoid of students.  Hermione and Ron grabbed their things and headed for Charms.

"Bye, Gin.  See you at dinner," Ron said.

Ginny waved them off and flopped into an armchair, relieved to finally be home.

~*^*~

The next morning, Hermione rose early.  She wanted to get in Gladrags before the rest of Hogwarts, so she felt she should leave early.  She crept into the sixth year dormitory and pulled Ginny's curtains apart.  She shook her awake softly.

"'Smatter?  It's Saturday," Ginny cried.

"Yes, it is Saturday, and I want to look at some dress robes before they disappear, Hermione whispered.

Ginny sat upright.  "Give me five minutes," she said and met Hermione in the Common Room.  They went down to breakfast, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Harry already there.  

"Good morning," she stifled a yawn.  "Got out of there as fast as you could, didn't you?"

"You got it.  Waking up to Poppy Pomfrey in the morning is not my favorite thing to do."  Harry shook his head.  "Are you going to Hogsmeade? What is the name of that robe-boutique place?"

"Gladrags," Hermione said as she spread marmalade on her toast.

"Right."  Harry finished his pumpkin juice.  "Well, I am going to go wake Ron up.  See you in Hogsmeade."  Harry got up from the Gryffindor table and left.

Ginny hadn't said a word, much less acknowledged Harry's presence.  She was blushing, Hermione noticed.  "So, Ginny…Tell me about your American boyfriend," Hermione teased.

"My what?" Then she understood.  "No, I don't have an American boyfriend.  Boys were few and far between at SWI.  Although, there was a military wizarding academy near Boston, I think…" Ginny sighed, looking in the direction Harry left in.

"That is a shame.  I am sure the boys will be allover you though, once they've realized you've arrived.  That will fix that problem up in no time."

Ginny gave a faint smile at that.  Hermione couldn't help herself any longer and she was dying to know.  "Do you still like Harry, Ginny?"

"Oh, yes," she answered right away, blushing deeply.  "Is it really that apparent?"

"I think your blushing kind of gives it away…" _Some things never change._

"Oh, bugger off.  I can't help it.  Being around Harry is just so… so…" Ginny looked helpless for words.

"Exhilarating?"  Hermione suggested.

"Exactly!"  Ginny said, dreamily.

"Awakening?"

"Absolutely," Ginny replied readily.

"Refreshing?" Hermione offered.

"Very," sighed Ginny.

_I know_.

Thirty minutes later, the two girls were standing outside Gladrags Wizard Wear waiting for the shop to open.  Precisely at eight thirty, a pretty witch came and unlocked the doors of the boutique.

"Do come in," she beckoned.

Immediately, measuring tapes began doing their work, taking measurements of all kinds.  Ginny seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.  Hermione found it amusing that about four witches had gathered around her with swatches of material and holding them next to her face.  Ginny was receiving the same treatment.

"Are you here for ball robes, love?  What may we do for you?" a short plump witch had asked Hermione.

"Yes, I am.  I want something simple, tasteful and reasonable," was Hermione's predictable answer.  She already had an idea of what she would like in mind.  

It was as if the plump woman hadn't heard a word she said.  Within two minutes, Ginny and Hermione had been separated to opposite ends of the shop; Hermione had been artfully stripped of her robes and stood in her underclothes.  She blushed.

"Don't fret, love," the stout woman said, as she magicked a curtain about their party.  "This should be fun.  We'll find a set of robes for you in no time.  Name's Pandora, love.  Don't let it bother you," she said, after seeing Hermione's face.  "It alarms everyone at first.  Don't know what my mum was thinking.  I don't have the girl's curiosity."  Pandora drew a breath.  "My, you are thin, love.  Don't you get enough to eat at Hogwarts?" she asked, pinching Hermione's upper arm and disproving her last statement about curiosity.  "Or sleep, love.  Goodness, you need a holiday!"

Hermione smiled nervously.  She wasn't used to this kind of scrutiny.

"But, darling, your hair," Pandora continued fondly.  "A healthy crop of it, if I ever saw one."  She held a single soft curl between her fingers.  "We'll have to find something that will show your color."  She turned.  "Helene," she said to an assistant.  "Bring me blue, sky blue."  The girl disappeared behind the curtain.

"Actually—," Hermione began, but Helene was back before she could finish.

For the next thirty minutes, Pandora fussed over Hermione, pinching, tugging and pulling this way and that, dissatisfied with everything.  "Something is not right.  Your hair, so pretty, should be perfect, but…" Pandora trailed off.

"Ah, miss," Hermione cut in.  

"Yes, dear, what is it?" the seamstress said distractedly.

"Well, this is too tight," Hermione said, pointing to the bust of her robes, which was making her bosom push up unattractively.

"Of course, dear.  Jessie," Pandora said, nodding at Hermione's chest.  She then proceeded to mumble to herself.

"And, miss?"  Hermione interrupted again.

"Yes, love?" Pandora answered, half listening.

"Well, I was hoping for robes more of that shade," Hermione suggested, pointing at a set of robes that were definitely not blue.  Pandora blinked at her.  It looked as though a sort of enigma was revealed to her at that instant.

"I know, Helene!  Bring me more of this!  Quickly!"  Helene was gone.  "I don't know what took me so long on that.  It must still be early," she said pleasantly, as if she had thought of it all by herself.

Helene was back in an instant with just as many dress robes as before.  The assistants started fussing over Hermione instantly, but she wanted none of it.  One set of dress robes caught her eye and she asked for them.  Pandora relented and smiled, showing off a few gold teeth.  "Fantastic, love.  This is more complimentary.  You're much warmer looking."  She started mumbling again.

Pandora was right.  Instead of a cold alabaster, Hermione's skin took on a certain glow, and her hair was quite golden against the fabric of her dress.

"Marnie, write this down.  Let out the top.  Take in the waist, say, three and a half inches." She gathered the floored hem.  "Shorten body five.  We'll have to alter this, love," Pandora said to Hermione.  "When do you need it?"

"Christmas."

"Can you come back Christmas Eve?'

"Yes, actually, that is when I will be in Hogsmeade next."

"Wonderful.  Jessie, please show this darling out."

As Jessie led her out, she stopped to check on Ginny, who was still going strong.  She left a note telling her she'd catch up later, and she headed to send a few owls.

In the mean time, while Hermione was being clucked over, Ron and Harry entered Gladrags.  The same treatment was bestowed on them, and as they were being separated, Harry heard Ron call,  "This is like that Muggle movie we saw once, Harry.  I feel like I'm in the Castle Anthrax!  You know, Monty Python!"

Harry indeed knew what Ron was talking about.  Two summers ago, Harry managed to fix a broken video cassette player that Dudley had broken in a rage, and he took it to the Burrow with him.  Dudley liked Monty Python very much, although Harry was sure that his cousin only understood half the jokes.  Dudley was very dense.  He smiled, too, knowing Ron was only here to have robes altered, and was going to ride it out for all it was worth.  Ron, of course, had a perfect set of robes, courtesy of his twin brothers.  He smiled, shook his head and blushed, for he found himself likewise stripped artfully down to an undershirt and boxer shorts.

He made the most of his time as he was fawned over by the young witches.  After they finally decided on a set for him, he kindly paid the shop, left a note for Ron, who was still busy, and headed back for Hogwarts with his garment bag over his shoulder.

~*^*~

As Hermione walked to the post office, she caught sight of the football tournament that Justin had spoken of.  True to her word, she stood and watched a bit of the Muggle sport.  Hermione admired the skill of the Hogwarts team, as they happened to be playing.  She recognized Dean Thomas playing on the field.  He was really quite good.

"Hello, Hermione," Justin said, startling her.

"Oh, Justin, you scared me.  It's a good team you have here, you know."

He looked pleased.  "Thanks, Herm.  Are you a fan?"

"My father is.  I go to the matches with him on holiday."

They chatted along the sidelines, interrupted only by Justin calling out occasionally.  A whistle blew, and a player was down.

"Oh, no!" Justin cried.  A Hogwarts fifth year was injured.  He started to rush onto the field, turned around and said, "Look, I have to fill in for Emma.  I want to make up Thursday night to you. Make I take you, after the tournament, to the Three Broomsticks for lunch?"  He looked pressed for time, but quite sincere.

"Well…" She began to turn him down with one thought in mind.

"As friends, Herm, I felt terrible for leaving Thursday," he pleaded.

She saw his fabulous smile and pushed other thoughts out of her head.  "Of course I will."  _What could lunch hurt?_

"Great!"  He looked very happy.  "See you later, then!" he called, jogging onto the field.

Hermione wondered momentarily if lunch was really something she felt up to, and decided that it really didn't matter.  She kept telling herself that the raven haired Quidditch Captain was her best friend, nothing more, and nothing more could be expected, shouldn't be expected of that platonic bond she had with him.  A meal with the football captain, if he was your friend, shouldn't and wouldn't hurt at all, right?  Unfortunately, she had never felt more uncertain about what she wanted than at that very moment.  She watched a bit more of the game and headed off to send her letters home.

~*^*~

Harry practically raced back to Hogwarts, the faster he finished his work, the faster he was back on his Firebolt.  

First, he placed his garment bag inside his wardrobe.  He caught sight of his hair in the mirror and smiled, remembering the attendants at Gladrags.

'Oh, his hair!  Isn't it just so romantic?  Reckless, wild…' a girl sighed.   Harry blushed, obviously not used to such blatant praise.  The girls were supposed to be measuring his height and such, but one girl invaded his space and sized up his bicep, which was snug in the sleeve of his undershirt.  "Oh, goodness, where did you get these?" she asked.

_"I play Quidditch."_

_"Quidditch, I see," the witch said confidently, removing his glasses.  "They're quite firm," she commented, squeezing his arms again._

_"You must play very hard," a different witch giggled, a twinkle in her eye._

_"Jenna, are you talking about his bum, it IS tight" She slapped his rear.  Harry yelped._

_"Thank you, ladies, really."  Harry gulped.  "I am here to get robes, though."_

_"Pandora is with another customer, but I think she'll be done shortly.  Amelia!  His eyes!  The deepest green of the Emerald Isle, they are!  Quite enchanting!"_

_          The witch named Marnie, or was it Amelia?  Anyway, she commented on his blackened eye, the only evidence of his accident the week before._

_          "Goodness, where did you get this?  I assume you came out winning this fight?" she tittered.  _

_          "Well, yes, I did."  It was true, in a manner of speaking.  The ladies tsked and giggled admiringly._

_Harry again swallowed.  He of course heard giggles and whispers from the younger girls as he walked the halls of Hogwarts, but no girl had ever been so fresh with him, at least not to his face, and never by grown women!  Why, he was still a teenager, and he was gathering the attentions of women that were at least five years his senior!  _

A few moments later, a short round witch entered the curtained area.  The girls fell silent as she gave Harry an appraising look.  "Ah, my stars.  You're a fine, strapping young man.  It will be easy to find something for you, lad, but what will look best?"  She began muttering to herself.  In the end, Harry was satisfied with what Pandora deemed as a 'fine choice, sir.  Your lady love will thank me for this.'  Harry smiled, paid and left quickly.

After he finished hanging his robes up, he headed for the Prefect Office.  He wanted to be up to date for the evening rounds, and lest he forget, he needed to write Fletchley up for shirking his duties.

He entered the cramped office, sat behind the desk and opened the ledger.  Turning past the pages of September and October, spotted with both Hermione's tidy script and his own distinctive scrawl, he flipped to mid-November to read over what he had missed.  The past week contained descriptions of how students had responded to lights-out and the Aurors' presence.  Hermione, as always, gave a detailed report over the points she added and took away.  Her daily entries easily filled multiple pages, though it was a bit more than when Harry was on duty with her.  Fletchley, he was unsurprised to see, was not as meticulous as he could have been.  After finishing with the ledger, he double-checked each House's points.  Gryffindor, Harry was pleased to see, was beating Slytherin by thirty points, easily gained or lost in a day, but trailing Ravenclaw by fifty-three.  There was ample time to catch up, and so Harry wasn't bothered.

Finally, he proceeded to report Justin Finch-Fletchley for failure to comply with Prefect duties.  Hermione hadn't done it, and Harry knew she wouldn't, she was more understanding than he was.  Nevertheless, it was a dirty job, and it had to be done.  Harry didn't complain, though.  _Sometimes, being Head Boy is just plain tough_, Harry thought with much sarcasm.

After the report was filled, he called a house-elf to deliver it to Fletchley's dormitory with a note.  _Failure to abide by the agreed terms of the Office of Prefect will result in a decrease of House points as well as suspension of Prefect privileges._  

Satisfied, he hurried off to get his Firebolt and out to the Quidditch Pitch.  He had missed this like he missed his godfather, Hagrid and Lupin.  It hurt him to think of them, as they were always in the back of his mind.  He stretched a bit, jogged in place and stretched some more.  He released a Bludger and the Snitch, waited thirty seconds and then flew to the sky.

It was as if he as never left.  Dodging only one Bludger was too simple, so he let the other go.  He flew fast like the Snidget, whirling, evading, swerving, and catching the Snitch with ease.  He was at home in the air.  Harry enjoyed himself like that until the House team arrived late that afternoon for practice.

~*^*~

Hermione ran into little trouble at the post office, she was lucky to get an owl to send, though.  It seemed other students had the same idea she did.  

Justin caught up with Hermione in Flourish and Blotts.  He had showered and his curls were still damp.

"Hey, I thought I might find you here," he said, good-naturedly.

"Am I really that predictable?" Hermione asked, putting down the latest edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.  

"Oh, no," Justin said quickly.  "I just thought to myself 'Where would a girl who is always in the library be?'  So, I checked the Hogsmeade Public Library.  You weren't there."

"It is closed on Saturdays," Hermione said.

"I know.  I was just about to say that.  Then, I figured that Flourish was the next place.  You're not that predictable."  He smiled.  She slugged him lightly on the arm.

"Oh, well, then.  If I am so obvious, then what am I thinking now?"

Justin shut his eyes tight, pretending to think hard.  "You're wondering where I am taking you for lunch, aren't you, since the Three Broomsticks is bursting at the seams with customers?" he asked, indicating the line out of the bar across the street.

"You think you're just so smart, don't you?"

"Actually, that one was easy.  We both ate early," he looked at his watch, "and as it is one o'clock, I figured you were just as hungry as I am."

"True," she said thoughtfully.  "So, where are you taking me?"

"Good question.  There is a little hole in the wall place off the main road that I would like to try.  It is called Rigazzi's.  Ernie told me it was excellent, come on."

Justin led her to a warm little Italian restaurant.  He readily ate a hero meatball, and Hermione enjoyed her pesto chicken.  A cute Italian wizard that kept flirting with Hermione served them.  She found it all very nice and fitting with the atmosphere.  

As they ate, they enjoyed the afternoon and pleasant conversation.  It turned out that Justin's team had earned consolation.  He was really pleased.

"For our first tournament, I'm happy.  We've got a lot to build on now, and in the spring, we'll be even better."

Hermione chatted away about her classes and nothing in particular.  The afternoon was agreeable.  As they finished their Italian sodas, Justin cleared his throat and looked a bit nervous.

Hermione looked up from the album she was paging through and looked at him expectantly.

"Er, Herm… Hermione," Justin swallowed. "I, ah…"

"Yes, Justin?"

"Well, er, I was, uh, wanting to know, er…"

"Yes?"  She closed the book and gave him her full attention.

"Well, I was hoping, maybe, you'd attend the Yule Ball with me."  He said it so quickly that Hermione had a hard time catching it all.

Hermione's eyes opened wide.  She was definitely not expecting this.  "Well, Justin, I--," she began.

"As friends, of course."

"Of course."  She looked at him pensively for a moment before staring at her hands.  Thoughts of all kinds started swarming her mind.  _As friends.  Ball.  Justin.  Dancing, with Justin.  Date.  Friends.  _She carefully weighed it all.  Going with him wouldn't be so bad.  She nearly raised her eyes to meet his until one single thought entered her mind to make her reevaluate.  

Harry.

What about Harry?

_Well, what about Harry?_ Her mind asked cynically.  _Why would he ever go with you?  Its bad enough he was gracious enough to dance the opener with you… Why expect more?  Who do you think you are?  Harry could have any girl he wanted, any girl at all.  All he would have to do is ask.  Why would he ever pick you when he had so many other preferable options?  _Her brain automatically ticked off girls she thought were more qualified than she herself was.  When she finished with that, she started in with the same old spiel of how she wasn't pretty enough.  Finally, her thoughts ended with 'Harry and I are just friends, nothing else.'  The same mantra she told herself every second she was trapped in his eyes, lost in time, looking for reciprocation and doubting her potential. _Nothing will ever come of Harry, except the world's greatest friend.  The only way you'll ever get over this, Granger, is if you make yourself, so get on with it!!!_

She sighed.  Going with Justin wouldn't be too bad.  They were friends, what was the harm in that?

"Herm?" Justin asked timidly.

She finally looked up, and Justin's expression made her feel better.  He looked as worried as she felt.

"Sure, Justin.  It will be fun."

Relief spread over his features as grief spilled into Hermione's heart.  Justin paid for lunch and they parted ways.  Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon bumming around Hogsmeade, all the time, wondering if she has said the right thing.

As she climbed the castle steps, Hermione came to a decision.  'I'll just have to ask Harry if it is okay with him.  I won't give anything away, and it is a safe question.'  Feeling a little lighter hearted, she took her bags to her dormitory and then headed to the Great Hall for dinner.

~*^*~

It was really turning into a great day for Harry.  He had been gushed over by beautiful witches at the boutique, he got to write up that Fletchley boy, he was OUT of the hospital wing, he played ample amounts of Quidditch, the team was glad to see him back, he had an agreeable dinner with the Gryffindors, and in a few moments, he was going to meet Hermione to do Saturday rounds.  Yes, this Saturday was really shaping up.

Promptly at eight thirty, Hermione walked into the Front Hall.  Her face broke into a smile as soon as she saw Harry.  He was leaning up against the gray-stone wall near a suit of armor.  He always had this knack for taking her breath away.  He was wearing a moss green sweater and blue jeans.  She could smell his shampoo from where she was standing.  He had showered since dinner, at which he was still sweaty from practice.  Harry looked up when he heard her enter and smiled too.

"Let's get going, shall we?"

They walked about the castle, idly chatting, with Hermione highlighting the week's major events and making sure Harry was up to date on everything.  In the Charms corridor, they met up with Auror Rhianon Dinwiddie.  Harry familiarized himself with her.  As Head Boy returning to duty, Dinwiddie was anxious to talk with The Boy Who Lived.  Presumably, she was unaware that Harry was Head Boy at all.  Hermione assured her that he was.  Their conversation turned serious when Dinwiddie started in on the 'lax' security at the school.  In her opinion, the Hogwarts ship was not run as tightly as she would have liked.  They talked on that thread for a bit and Harry checked his watch.

"We should be getting along, now.  Will we be running into the other Auror on our rounds?" 

Hermione was about to answer that, but Dinwiddie beat her to it.  "Stockton and I are on a fourteen hour rotation.  He comes on at four am this morning, and unless you're about at that time, I seriously doubt it."

Harry nodded.  He had forgotten about the conditions.  "So, you'll be back on at…"

"Eight o'clock tomorrow night.  Terrible for the circadian rhythm, I tell you that, but as Moody has always said, 'Constant Vigilance!'"

They said their good nights and continued about their set paths.  Little to anyone's knowledge, a rat with a silver forepaw continued on his way as well, whiskers twitching, disappearing through a hole in the wall.

The night sustained as agreeable for Harry.  How he had missed the long walks about the grounds and the talks he had with 'Mione.  She had this certain way about her that calmed everything within him.  Things took a slower pace when she was around, in spite of her busy life.  She was his breath of fresh air.

He could tell that she had something on her mind that evening.  They had been talking about casual things; the night air had become filled with the sounds of their voices.  As they walked past Hagrid's cabin and along the edge of the lake, Hermione's thoughts rushed back to the Second Task, where she had spent roughly an hour at the bottom, in an enchanted sleep.  Though she didn't recall being down there, she remembered waking up as she hit the surface, and seeing Viktor with the head of a shark.  The thought, now, was amusing, but it was alarming then, as it took her a few seconds to place the circumstances.  Then, as her thoughts always did when she thought of Viktor (for some unknown reason), she thought of Harry, and her fear when he didn't come up from the lake.  He was so far past the time limit that Hermione was positive that he had drowned, which, later she saw he nearly could have.  She smiled thinking of how many heart attacks she had nearly had because of her ebony haired friend.

Harry was quite content to just enjoy 'Mione's presence, as they slowly made their way about the grounds.  Harry was expertly keeping his eyes and ears open for anything abnormal.  He glanced down at her and saw her looking uneasy.  Immediately, he queried to himself about what could possibly be wrong, and coming up with nothing, he decided to spark conversation again.

"So, tell me what you did in Hogsmeade today.  Was there a sale at Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes, they were, actually.  It made me wish I had a credit line with the store, but that would be more trouble than it was worth."

"You mean, you would dig yourself into debt…" He smiled knowingly.  She playfully pushed him to the shore and he stumbled before catching himself.

"Hey!  What was that for?" Harry chuckled.

"Let's just call that preventative punishment, before you start predicting my whole life, which, I'll have you know, does not revolve entirely around books!"

"I know that!  But, just for curiosity's sake, prove it to me," said Harry roguishly.  What else did you do today?"  

She complied and told him about her morning.  Harry remained silent as she told him about her lunch with Justin.  He assumed that she didn't want to hear his latest opinion of the prat.  She finished, he thought, but she was looking apprehensive again.

"Is that all?" he asked her quietly.

"Well, no."

Harry stopped walking and looked at her with interest.  Hermione took a deep breath and continued.  

"Justin asked me to the Ball this afternoon, Harry."  She looked right into his deep green eyes.

Harry broke his gaze with her, put his hands in his pockets and looked over her shoulder at the lake.  It was quiet for nearly a full minute.  Hermione looked at her shoes.

"Please say something, Harry," she asked in a tiny voice.

          He continued to watch the lake, though not really seeing it.  "Why are you telling me this?" he asked dryly.  He broke his empty gaze with the water and looked at her, searching for…something.  "Why, 'Mione?"

Oh!  Why did he have to call her that?  All clear thought left her momentarily.  

"I—I don't know."  She looked up at him, but quickly down again.  "I guess I just wanted to see what you thought."  She was suddenly frightened.  Frightened at what she saw in his unreadable eyes and horrified that she ruined everything because of her 'sure' to the Hufflepuff boy.  She wished he would say something.

Harry sighed heavily, removed his glassed and cleaned them on his undershirt.  He replaced them and ran a hand through his untidy hair.  "'Mione, you don't need my opinion."

She could almost hear her own heart breaking.  _Harry, tell me not to go with him.  I'll wait for you forever, Harry.  I'll wait forever.  Just tell me no, you don't have to explain.  Harry, please._  Her heart pleaded this over and over as she waited for him to continue.

Obviously, his opinion did matter, as she remained silent at his comment.  He wished she would look at him, giving him some kind of sign that there was hope for him.  When no such sign came, he sighed and forced himself to say, "I think you will have a lot of fun.  Do as you please, Hermione."

She smiled weakly at him, hairline cracks threatening to break her heart into a thousand pieces.  These next few moments were crucial to her, though she had no idea why.  "I am glad you approve."

"I do," he lied.

They started about the lake again, pregnant silence surrounding them.  They both needed some reassurance from the other, and with a waning moon, it was hard to tell.  A single thought was pressing on Harry's mind.  He had to ask.

"Hermione," he blurted out, "will you save a dance for me?"  The discomfort was broken.

Hermione felt it too, and took advantage of it.  "Well, Mr. Potter, I really don't know," she said, jovially.  "You see, the Ball really does seem such a long time off and I'd hate to tie myself down.  Honestly, I think you're being rath--," she didn't finish, because Harry cut her off.

He had grabbed her about the waist and swung her around.  

"Harry!" Hermione screeched.  "Put me down!"

He laughed.  "You think it is that easy, huh?  I'll throw you in if I don't get that dance!  Try me, Hermione Granger!  And, don't give me this rubbish about the Hogwarts Waltz!"

"You wouldn't dare!  It is freezing out here!"

"I bet it is colder in the lake, as I'm sure you know.  Well, you had your chance!"  He swung her slight frame back, not nearly half serious, but she didn't know that.

"Alright!  Alright!!  It's yours!  Now, put me down!" she conceded, not meaning what she said earlier about 'tying herself down.'

"A wise choice, Granger."

"I was always the wiser one," she said, straightening her winter cloak.

"That you were," Harry said, quietly.

The rest of rounds passed quickly.  Heading back to the castle and up the grand staircase, Harry and Hermione parted ways.  Hermione, to the Prefect's Office, telling Harry that she needed to get some work done.  Harry, to his lonely four-poster.

As he pulled the curtains together, shielding himself in; he expected sleep to come quickly.  Of course it did not, and he spent the night tossing and turning.  His thoughts were never far from Hermione, and he wished the dull ache in his heart would subside.  What could be accomplished by worrying over it?  He had decided long ago that she was better off without him anyway.  What he couldn't understand was WHY his opinion mattered so much?  He couldn't shake that one thought from his head.  His sleep came slowly.

Hermione spent some time in the Prefect Office, piddling around as she collected her thoughts.  So it seemed, Harry had no opinion on what she did or whom she saw.  This proved what she had been telling herself for ages.  Harry was not interested in her personal affairs.  That thought settled the matter, and she met her four-poster very wearily.  Her mind swarming with too many thoughts, she lay awake waiting for sleep to come until the early morning hours.  All she could think of was that Harry was not interested, and it hurt with a dull ache.  She rested finally, but fitfully.

^^^^^

A/N:  I appreciate all comments, so, take the time to review!  Thank you much!


	16. Ch. 16, Dancing Lessons

A/N:  Guess who's back… Back again… Steph is back, tell a friend!  (A little Eminem.)  Yeah, so I am back.  This is the 16th installment of my story.  I think the next chapter will be up in a month.  Oh, yeah… Amy Spinnet is Alicia's little sis, a Chaser on the House team, and a figment of my imagination.

Also, I think the rating is upped for this chapter.  The situation becomes more mature.

Disclaimer:  Harry Potter and Associates are property of JK Rowling and her associates.  No profit is being made from this fiction.  God Bless JK and, please…_please_ hurry up with OOTP!

Chapter Sixteen: Dancing Lessons

Hermione was running behind.  She had been up late the night before, triple checking her Arithmancy theorems and finally satisfied at two am, she went to sleep.  The worst thing she could imagine starting a Monday morning off with, one preceded by a late night, certainly, was History of Magic.  She has slept past breakfast, with only ten minutes to prepare herself for class.

Not only did she see no point in rushing to a class she found boring, she really did not feel like facing Ron… or Harry.  They'd be seated in the back row, with a chair saved for her, but for once in her life, she wanted to be as far away from them as possible.  Unable to force herself to skip class, she entered breathlessly as the bell sounded.  To her dismay, all the seats in the room were occupied except one in back next to Harry.  She supposed he'd turned other Gryffindors away, expecting her to be late.  Other days, she would have appreciated the gesture, today though, she longed for that seat in the front row.

She sat down as Harry moved his books off her chair.  Professor Binns entered through the ceiling, scanned the room looking for absences and began to drone the day's lesson.  Today's torture was over the Muggle economic boom of the nineteenth century and the magical community's reaction to the Industrial Revolution.

She settled down and pulled her notes out, prepared to transcribe everything he said.  As she touched her quill to parchment, a piece of paper slid from her left.  Harry had written her a note.

_Good Morning!  We missed you at breakfast!_

Harry really shouldn't have been passing notes in class, and this did not help her situation of trying to avoid him.  She just felt so badly about this stupid ball situation, and wanted to forget the whole thing altogether, but she wrote back:

_Late night with Arithmancy.  My alarm wasn't set, either._

Harry wrote no response to that for a while, he just kind of stared through Professor Binns, not paying attention.

Hermione was flustered.  Ron hadn't even looked at her when she entered.  He hadn't glanced at her all class.  She couldn't tell whether he was angry, apathetic or even feeling anything at all.  One thing was for sure: he was ignoring her.

She thought back to yesterday's brunch.  It definitely ranked as one of her most embarrassing moments.  Ron, it seemed, had finally gotten enough courage to finally ask her to the Yule Ball.  

They were walking back to the Tower, Harry, Hermione and Ron, when Harry spotted Amy Spinnet.  He pulled her aside to talk about Quidditch, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

"Go on without me, I'll catch up," Harry had said.  The two continued on their way.

Hermione was telling Ron that he should finish his Charms essay before he went to goof off, when he interrupted her.

"Really, Ron!!  Be respons-," she lectured.

"Hermione," Ron blatantly said.

She was startled by his interjection.  "Ron."

"Hermione," he said again, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, Ron." She looked plainly up at him, towering over her.

"I've been, well, wanting to ask you this a long time…" he started.  "I want to know, well," he took a very large gulp of air, calming his nerves, "well, would you be my date for the Yule Ball?"

Her eyes widened with surprise.  Hadn't she been expecting this for a few days?  She had, and now, her answer was simple, and bitter sweetly so.  No, she really didn't want to run an emotional and romantic race with Ron.  No, she already had a date, and that would save her the pressure of a lousy excuse.  _No, and I don't want to date you…or even the person I am attending with._  That was the bittersweet.  Justin was her safety net, but she wasn't thrilled over it.  What could she possibly say to smooth the upcoming storm over?

She came up with nothing but the truth.

"Well, Ron, I am surprised, and flattered, really, by your request, and--," she began lamely.

"Are you that surprised, though, Hermione?" he gazed at her earnestly.  "I wouldn't think that you had no idea that I wanted to date you, right?"

"Well, no, Ron, you're right."  Joy and excitement flashed through his eyes.  "But, you see," Hermione continued, " I already have a date for the Ball."  Ron's happiness disappeared as quickly as it came.  "I'm really sorry."

"Well, of course, if you already _have_ a date…" He smiled feebly at her and they continued walking.  "Could I ask whom you're going with?"

Another weight sat upon her chest.  She said, very inaudibly, "I think that may upset you, Ron."

The tops of Ron's ears went as red as his hair.  "I don't think I heard you right, Hermione, would you repeat what you said?"

The weight in her chest was nothing to what seemed to be dragging in her legs.  She wanted so badly to blend into the tapestry work.  By Merlin, she did not want to deal with this, not now, not ever.

"I don't want you to get upset," she said, edgily.  

"Why would I get upset?  I won't get upset," Ron said, his voice abnormally high.

"You're sure?"

"Yep…"

"Positive?"

"Hermione!  I won't get upset!"

"You're upset!"

"No," he snapped, sarcastically. "No, I'm not."

"You can't handle this." Ron turned very red.

"What!?!? I don't BELIEVE it!"  Ron was incredulous.  "Hermione…" 

She held up a hand to silence him.  "You're handling this badly."

"Just tell me!  Don't I have a right to know?"

He did.  As one of her best friends, he did and she knew it.  This was unlike when she went with Viktor.  She would have had to endure his 'traitor' speeches if she had told him the first time he'd inquired.  No, it was better just to get it over with.  She really didn't like keeping things from him.

"Well, I am going with a friend…" she trailed off.

"Neville?  He asked you?" Ron was going to pummel him later.

Hermione caught a look of jealousy in his eyes.  "No, not Neville."  She looked at him again, and reversed her decision to tell him.  "Oh, you can't handle this.  I'm sorry."  She began to walk away from him, up the stairs.

"Did Harry ask you?" Ron asked suddenly, notes of betrayal were well etched in his voice.  He had confided in his best mate, and Harry went behind his back.  He was devastated.

"No," Hermione said, almost sadly.  _Why was this so hard?_  "Of course not!  Why would he?"

This made Ron momentarily happy.  "Who, then, Hermione?  Who's the lucky wizard?"

Hermione sighed.  He was not going to like this.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"What?  WHAT!  Hermione, no.  No.  Not that blond on stilts.  No!  I can't believe this!  He's all wrong for you, Hermione!"

She was astounded.  How dare he judge like that? All comprehension for what he was following up with went out of her head.  She slowly processed 'all wrong.'  How _dare_ Ron Weasley?

"How. Dare. You! Who do you think you are?  Deciding for what is right for me or not?" She was furious.

"He is, Hermione!  Just listen to the stupid git!  I refuse to let you go with him!"  He was very upset indeed; his voice had raised above all others in the hall.  The hall, in response, quieted to listen.

"You REFUSE?  REFUSE?!!?  Excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but you have no control over my life!"  She had pulled herself up to her full height, brown eyes blazing orange.  She shoved a finger square in his chest.  "None.  Accept that.  How dare, how DARE you!"  She stomped up six stairs, leaving Ron flabbergasted.  She turned.  "And.  Before you EVER consider asking me ANYWHERE AGAIN, consider _treating me like a human being._  With free will.  Treat me like an equal… _your_ equal."  She bounded up a few more stairs, and turned on him again, who just stood there, gaping at her.  "Before you consider TALKING to me again, consider APOLOGIZING!!!" She gave an 'ugh!' of disgust, and with a look of severe disdain, she concluded with, "God, you selfish prat!!"  She turned around and went up the stairs, skipping the trick step, and disappeared around the corner.

She had gone to her room and stayed there well past dinner.  It had been most embarrassing for her because she realized later that Harry was a few steps below them, witnessing everything, as well as about forty other students.  They had all seen her showing her ugliness and ranting at her best friend.  She'd practically cursed him, and for that, she was awfully ashamed of herself.

She was going to head down for dinner and a trip to the library, but as she reached the foot of the girls' stairs, she heard Harry and Ron's heated discussion.  Obviously it had gotten out that Harry knew about Justin, and didn't warn Ron in time to save face.  She felt terribly for putting Harry in that position.  It wasn't his fault, and he shouldn't have been expected to report every conversation he'd had with her to Ron, which is what it sounded like he was in trouble for.  Then, the thought occurred to her that Harry and Ron had earlier discussed Ron asking her to the Ball.  Now, it seemed that more than ever, Harry did not want any kind of romantic involvement with her.  Any little hope, even though she had pep-talked herself about it endlessly, any hope she had left vanished.  If he had wanted something like that, he clearly wouldn't have encouraged Ron.  After listening to that conversation, she really didn't feel like dinner after all.  She and Harry had the night off from their duties, and so she retired to an evening of Arithmancy and those exciting theorems.  

As she brought her thoughts back to Professor Binns's lecture, she saw that Harry had written her back.

I'm sorry about the scene yesterday.  I should have told him and warned you.

She smiled faintly.

There's no need to apologize.  You did nothing wrong.  I acted like an idiot.  Is Ron still upset with me?

_He still can't believe that you're dating a Hufflepuff.  He'll come around.  He misses you already, I can tell._

Hermione was slightly confused.

_I'm not dating a Hufflepuff.  Justin and I are not _dating._  We're only going to the Ball together._ –For some reason, she had to make that crystal clear to Harry. -  _I am really sorry that Ron got upset with you; it wasn't your fault._

_How did you know Ron was upset with me?_

_I heard it around._

_I'm sorry, too, 'Mione.  Ron's just really jealous.  He likes you._

_I can't help that._

Harry nearly did a double take at that response.  'Mione didn't like Ron.  Though that was a bit evident to begin with, it was still pretty nice to have concrete evidence for it.

Right.  Well, then.

_He won't even look at me.  Doesn't he care?_

_He does, 'Mione.  He's just stubborn._

_He's acting childish._

_I think he got that picture yesterday._

Right.

The bell sounded the end of the period.  The dream team gathered their things and exited the classroom.  Harry noticed that Hermione was especially burdened with books.

"'Mione, why do you have all your books, and where is your backpack?"

"I told you, Harry," she said, shifting her load that came to her chin.  "I was running late, so I grabbed everything."

"Well, here, let me take some of that," Harry said, alleviating about seven textbooks.  Hermione gave him a grateful look.

Ron, who was on Harry's other side, came over to Hermione's right and said, "Here, I'll take some too."  She stopped and let him take some of her books.  He gave her a repentant look.  "I'm so sorry that I responded the way I did yesterday.  I feel…"

"Ron, it's alright."  Hermione smiled brightly at him.  "It's forgotten.  I didn't mean half of what I said, I feel so terrible."

"Me too." He grinned down at her.

Both were truly relieved.  It had taken them less time to get over their differences than the time before, and the same was true for the time before that.  Two years ago, they had agreed not to disagree, and that hadn't worked out, so they agreed to try to be more accepting.  Though neither Hermione nor Ron said it out loud, they both knew that they never really changed ground anyway.  The less they stuck Harry in the middle of things, the better.  Time spent with him (the time they had), was best spent pleasantly.  It was hard to explain the feeling delicately.  Basically, both wanted quality 'peace time' with Harry all the time, if at all possible…in case for some reason they didn't have that opportunity anymore.  Hence, they solved differences quickly.

Strain removed and Monday again normal, they headed for Charms.  Professor Flitwick had the pleasure of the seventh year Slytherins first thing in the morning.  (What a way to start the week off right!)  Ron, Harry and Hermione always tried to avoid Malfoy and his goons, knowing that if they could spell, they would spell trouble.  Much to each Gryffindors' dismay, Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were still loitering in the Charms corridor, obviously in high spirits about something.

"Well, well, well…  If it isn't Potty, Weasel and their pet Mudblood." Harry heard the vacuous voice of Malfoy drawl.  

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron asked, trying to keep his temper in check.

Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm.  "Let's go, Ron.  Harry."

"Oh, look!  They carried Mudblood's books for her!"  Malfoy said in a syrupy tone.  "It looks like she's got all sides covered."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, green eyes flashing, with definite warning in his voice.

Malfoy feigned shock.  "What do I mean?  Don't you know, Potty?  Are you still behind in the times?  Welcome back, by the way."

"The point."

"Ah," he laughed joylessly.  "Well, you see here, it seems like the little tramp—," Hermione went red.  Malfoy smirked.

"Take that back," danger was clearly set in Harry's words.

"It seems," Malfoy said, louder over Harry.  Ron looked as though he would burst from rage.  "It seems as though this harlot here has her hooks not only in Poor Boy Weasel here, but Rich Boy Fido-Fetchy too."

Harry was trying very hard to hold himself in balance.  Hermione was trying to physically pull Ron away, but he held fast.  

"Watch it, Malfoy," Harry spat.

Malfoy ignored all chances at life and continued.  "And it looks like she's got her hooks in you, too, carrying her books and all.  Is that what she charges?"

Hermione gave up on Ron and tried for Harry.  "Harry, let's go."

"No, Hermione," he said, not breaking eye contact with Malfoy.

"Because, if that is all, Mudblood," he said, turning to her for the first time, "I'm free this evening.  I'm positive we can figure some payment out." 

Hermione never looked more ashamed and embarrassed in her life.  Ron was nearing explosion, but Harry acted first.  He slammed the books down.

"Dammit, Malfoy!" He drew his wand and called Ron to attention, as if he weren't already.  "Ron!  _Expelliarmus!_"  Malfoy was instantly disarmed and slammed into the stonewall.  He rebounded and caught himself.  

Ron caught the ferret's wand and used it on his cronies.  "_Petrificus Totalus._"  

Hermione was nearly frantic.  "Harry, stop!"

But Harry didn't stop.  For the first time in her life, Hermione feared the look in his eyes.  He was beyond rage.

Harry charged Malfoy with Seeker-lightning speed, and slammed him against the wall.  He took his own wand and pointed it at Malfoy's face.  Red and gold sparks rushed out, singeing Malfoy's flaxen strands.  Fear settled behind his eyes, and his face was actually flushed.  Somewhere in the deep concourses of Harry's mind, he heard Hermione say something about being a bad example.  It didn't matter; all that was in the world at that moment was Malfoy and his ugly mouth.

"What, Potter, touch a nerve?"

"Try me," Harry growled.

"You wouldn't dare," Malfoy said confidently.

"Try me."

"Don't you think I see it?  You fool.  You're about to throw everything you've gained out the window for that bushy haired piece of ass."  Malfoy gasped for breath, because Harry's forearm found its place at his throat, pinning him to the wall very painfully.

"I will curse you to Voldemort and back."

Again, Harry heard Hermione's voice over the excited din of the surrounding crowd.  "Harry, stop.  You're being a terrible example," she nearly cried, indicating a group of first years that included Reuben Spencer.  Hermione and two Ravenclaws were holding Ron back.

"Hermione.  Shut. Up."

"That's it, Potter," Malfoy rasped.  "Tell your bitch.  Are you going to slap her around a bit later?"

Harry forgot his wand.  He punched Draco Malfoy right on his snide nose.  It exploded with blood and his head hit the wall, making a dull thud.

"Harry!"

Harry heard nothing.

"You will pay," Malfoy countered.

"Whatever."  Harry tightened the pressure on Malfoy's neck.  He leaned in close to his ear.  "I will make your life hell.  I'll send Parkinson on you like a dog in heat, you miserable ferret."  At this, Malfoy's eyes widened, but Harry wasn't finished.  "I will chop you up and leave your remains to Manticores.  I will destroy you.  Never speak to her again."

"ENOUGH OF THIS!  Seventy-five points from Gryffindor, each," Hermione was determined to stop this, before it got worse. Ron stopped struggling and gaped at her.  "Thirty points from Slytherin for misconduct."

Malfoy snorted and blood spattered on her robes and uniform. "Mudblood c^$%."

Harry lost control.  Malfoy was on the ground; his face became shambles.  The Ravenclaws 'accidentally' let Ron go, and he was in on the beating.  Hermione extracted her wand.

"_Magnus Petrificus Totalus!_"  Three boys froze in a tangled heap on the floor.  Professor Flitwick had come into the hall to see where his students had got to.  Needless to say, he was not ready for what he saw.  

"Miss Granger!  What is the meaning of this?" Flitwick squeaked.

"Professor, these boys--," she began.

Professor McGonagall arrived on the scene accompanied by Auror Stockton.  She looked deadly.

"Explain, Granger.  You all get to class!" she said to the gathered crowd.  They dispersed, not wanting to catch the Headmistress' wrath.  "Now," she looked pointedly at Hermione.  "Explain."

Hermione delved right into a play-by-play.  "Malfoy provoked Harry.  Harry disarmed Malfoy and Ron put a full body bind on Crabbe and Goyle.  Malfoy continued to aggravate Harry, even though he had him pinned to the wall.  So, Harry punched him.  Then, after I took points away from Houses, Malfoy retorted and that's when Ron and Harry began this.  I tried to stop them, but only could with a full body bind."

McGonagall gave her a piercing look.  "Very well.  Change your uniform and get to class, Granger."  Hermione gathered her things and headed to her dormitory.

McGonagall began performing counter-curses.  First on Crabbe and Goyle.  They looked shocked at the scene before them, a new emotion for their tepid faces.  "Gather your things and get out of here. Do not worry about Mr. Malfoy."  They shuffled off to the dungeons.

Next came Ron.  He collapsed on Harry's solid form.  Ron was stunned at the sight before him.

"Detention, Weasley.  We will NOT have violence in these halls.  I have zero tolerance for it.  Get to class."

"Professor, we were already penalized for this—."  

"And I will give you more if you continue to speak." She pointed towards Flitwick and his classroom.  "Go."

Ron grumbled as he dusted himself off.  He realized he still had Malfoy's wand and was more than half tempted to snap it over his knee, heavy fine from the Ministry or not, he hated that slimy excuse for a human being.  Unfortunately, McGonagall held a hand out for it.  He gave it to her and went to class.

Next, Harry Potter was counter-cursed.  He carried out the swing intended for Malfoy's face, and hit solid mass.  He understood immediately and looked up, holding his fist.  He was greeted with McGonagall's sour look.

"Professor--."

"Potter, I am ashamed of you.  Head Boy of this school, and this is the example you lead!  I had my doubts about appointing you, but Dumbledore insist--." 

"Professor, please, let me explain," Harry pleaded.  He had to get his side in before Malfoy was counter-cursed.

She glared at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat.  She said nothing, and so Harry proceeded.  

"Malfoy insulted Hermione very terribly, and I just couldn't stand for it again.  I'm sorry I lost my temper, but Malfoy didn't shut his mouth, and I gave him ample chances to do so before I shut it for him."

McGonagall gave him a calculating look.  "What was so terrible you couldn't ignore?"

Harry took a heated breath.  "He called her 'Mudblood,' Professor."  McGonagall cringed at the word; it was like nails on a blackboard.  She was appalled to hear that uttered inside the castle walls.  "And, well, he eluded to other inappropriate and untrue insults."

McGonagall weighed all of this carefully.  "I would have thought the office you hold meant more you, Potter.  You broke the rules you should have been upholding.  You will serve detention, in addition to whatever Miss Granger issued.  Your Head Boy privileges are suspended until further notice, although you are still expected to perform your duties.  I expected more from you." She shook her head.  "Go get your hand looked at."

Harry took himself and his swelling hand to the hospital wing.  Flitwick, now having accounted for all his students, went into his classroom.

McGonagall sighed and counter-cursed Draco Malfoy.  He flinched, expecting a blow from Harry, and receiving none, he stood quickly, looking for assailants.  Finding only the Headmistress and an Auror, he gloated.

She crossed her arms.  "Explain yourself."

"What is there to say?  I was utilizing my freedom of speech and Potter went berserk."  He pinched his nose, stopping the blood flow onto his school sweater vest and robes. 

"True as that may be, you purposefully provoked Potter and Weasley.  How many points did Miss Granger take away?"

"Twenty," Malfoy lied.

"Do not lie, boy!" Auror Stockton barked.  "The girl took thirty, don't you think that you can fool me!"

"Whatever, you don't know that," Malfoy goaded.  

"Ah, but, you did not know, Mr. Malfoy, that we are graced with an Auror that has the sense of detecting prevarication," McGonagall said smugly.  "You'll find that you can't tell anything but the truth around him.  Now, add forty points and a detention to your punishment."  Malfoy began to protest.  "Do not try me on this, you will lose.  As a prefect, I expected more, much more.  This is your only warning.  Go get cleaned up."  

Malfoy headed for the hospital wing, McGonagall to her office to write Dumbledore, and Stockton went about his patrol.  The rat hidden in the foot of a nearby suit of armor scuttled away for the Forbidden Forest.

~*^*~

It was an uncomfortable time for the three.  Ron couldn't understand why Hermione punished them for what they did.  Hermione felt terrible about Harry's suspension.  Harry didn't comprehend how she took the day's escapade so calmly.  Needless to say, conversation was desperately lacking between them.  Many of their fellow Gryffindors feared that they would do permanent damage to their relationship.   That evening was spent with relative politeness and general niceties.  Even on rounds, Harry and Hermione finished as quickly as they could, which was quite contrary to the norm.  They felt uncomfortable with each other.

That discomforting Monday gave way to Tuesday, as it had always proved to do so before.  What was different about this was that Charlie Weasley, excuse the misnomer, _Professor_ Weasley was instructing the Care of Magical Creatures class.  What made it better was that he was from Gryffindor House, whereas Professor Harris was from Hufflepuff and kind of dull.  That meant that the Gryffindors would have a bit of favor over the Slytherins.  The students hadn't had favor like that since Hagrid was in charge.

They started class off very well; Charlie spent most of his time discussing his work on dragon reserves in Romania.  Ron was slightly disinterested, but he had missed Charlie so much he kept on task.  Harry, as well, ever since his run-in with the Hungarian Horntail, was somewhat interested in dragons and in what Charlie had to say.  Hermione of course, was a sponge for everything except Divination and she paid attention.  Even most of the Slytherins found this lesson to be worthwhile and gave the instructor respect.  For once, Care of Magical Creatures had a smooth lesson.

Perhaps that was needed to chip some of the ice off of their stony silence, because as they were walking back up the grounds, Hermione timidly asked Harry how his hand was.

"How did you know?" he asked, flexing his right fist.

"Professor McGonagall told me, after she informed me of your detentions and such," she said, the edge of guilt on her voice.

Ron and Harry looked at her as if she were crazy.  It wasn't her fault that the Headmistress punished them.  The last time they checked, they'd been wanting to do that to Malfoy since their first encounter on the Hogwarts Express.  Besides that, Harry vowed to himself fix Malfoy's loose lips over a week ago.  There was no reason for her to feel culpability for the consequences.  They took them gladly.

Hermione sighed.  "So, how is it?  Did you break anything?"

"Oh, yeah.  Madam Pomfrey worked her usual magic.  It's as good as new, although she wasn't thrilled to see me again so quickly… I think I broke two knuckles and the third metacarpal.  She has got to have a running tally of my broken bones.  When I graduate, I'll ask for my stats."

"You're probably in the running with Fred and George, Harry," Ron said, laughing.  "I don't know if she just counts them as one person or two, but still…" He trailed off.

"They're competition," Hermione finished for him.  They all felt much better, happy that they could make light of Harry's mishaps.

As they were about to go up the stairs to their respective dormitories, Hermione remembered something.  "Harry, we have dance practice tonight at 6.30, so be in Flitwick's room.  Wear comfortable shoes."

"What?  I thought I wasn't allowed Head Boy privileges," he said questioningly.  

"What do you mean?  This dancing isn't a privilege, especially if it's with me.  It's your duty, much like it was for the Champions three years ago."

Harry meditated on this for a moment.  "Well, I guess I'll see you then."  

"Sure."

Harry turned up his staircase, and as an afterthought, "'Mione?"

Hermione came back down her stairs.  "Yes?"

"You mean, you asked McGonagall and everything?"

She looked at him as if he'd just jumped ship.  "Of course I did!  I had to make sure I had a partner, and Flitwick is too short for a dance partner.  I know I'm short, but not like that!  Besides, it will be easier to learn with the person you're dancing with."

"Right," he said, grinning. She always had a point.  "I'll see you then."  He headed up his staircase.

~*^*~

Harry was incredibly nervous.  Dancing?  _Harry?_  Last time he danced, Parvati did 80% of the work, and they weren't too keen on the floor.  He admitted he hadn't tried too hard.  Nevertheless, this time he wanted to, and he was positive he'd come up lacking.  The thought was disconcerting.  He hoped Hermione was a little more comfortable with this than he was; otherwise, he was sure they'd be doomed to fail.

He entered the Charms classroom to find that it had been transformed into a mini dance hall.  The stone floor had a wooden platform for dancing and instruction, and all the tables were being stacked in the corner.  Hermione was helping Flitwick move the last few with her handy wand work.  Other students were milling around the platform, some apprehensive, most unsure that this was a good idea. 

Malfoy was looking exceptionally cocky, though.  He was nursing his assault for all it was worth.  Little did he know that the nose tape he was wearing was a constant reminder to the whole school that Harry and Ron royally fonged* him the day before.  It enhanced his rat-faced features unattractively, that was certain.  Harry supposed it did have its advantages, though.  Beautiful but snotty Morag MacDougal was pampering him.  If Malfoy wanted her attentions, that was all right by Harry.  For all the scum she'd most likely touched, (and it wasn't like Harry to believe rumors) he wouldn't touch her with a 50-foot goal post.  In all reality, the suggestions Malfoy made about Hermione the day before could have very well been used (and have been truthful) about Morag.  Harry inwardly shuddered.  Malfoy glanced at him, and Harry returned the look with an expression, one promising he'd carry out promises made the day before, if need be.  As it was, Flitwick was there.  Malfoy was stupid, but he had a few shards of common sense.

Flitwick scurried over to the center of the center of the makeshift dance floor.  "As you may have noticed," he piped, "there are no underclassmen here.  After a short discussion with the committee, it was decided that the privilege to open the Ball should be left to the Seventh Years.  Also, it will make it easier to watch.  Now, take your partners…" He began to direct people around.  

Hermione came and stood by Harry's side.  Harry, in turn, leaned to her ear and whispered, "He said 'privilege.'  I shouldn't be here.  Though, I don't mind.  Ron's with Ginny and Charlie, so I'd be bored anyway."

Hermione turned up to Harry's ear, her breath tickling him.  "McGonagall said it was okay.  You make it sound like I'm pulling your leg, Harry," she teased, giving his ribs a poke.

"Take it easy!!  I broke a few of these a bit ago!  Anyway, pulling my leg would not help me dance.  I'd step on your toes for sure," Harry said, indicating Hermione's heeled feet.

"Could I have _everyone's_ attention, please?" Flitwick squeaked.  "First, I want you all to hear a sampling of the music you will be dancing to.  I have no idea what exactly you'll be hearing, as it is a lot like the Hogwarts School Song:  set words, but no set music.  The waltz is the same way: no set music, but set steps.  This means you do not have to be in time with the music, just your partner."  Harry heaved a great sigh of relief.  Flitwick started the Wizarding Wireless player, and a slow piano sonata came wafting among the students.  Another wash of relief came over him; this meant he'd be able to count steps.  "Finally, you all wont' all be starting at the same time.  Gryffindors will be announced first, as they are our head students, then Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and then Slytherin."

"Best for last," Harry heard Malfoy say.

The music suddenly switched from the piano to a modern hip-hop.  Harry gulped.  "This, students, is an example of the random music that will be played.  Each couple will have a spot of music to highlight, with the others pausing, leaving only the highlighters to dance for a set amount of measures."  He looked at his students, who were quite lost.  "Okay, just listen to the music, and we'll take it slowly."

However slowly Flitwick took it, it wasn't slow enough for Harry.  For a guy who was so graceful on a broomstick, you would think he'd transfer that grace elsewhere.  Fortunately, Hermione was patient with him, but she was no great shakes at it either.  The dance was complicated, and it seemed that they would need every practice unless they had serious improvement.

All the same, they had extraordinary fun.  Some of the steps were catchy, most of them tricky and more than a few times, Hermione was sent flying into her partner by a wayward couple's errant steps.  Most of these occasions, Harry would catch her by the shoulders and hold her for a few moments to steady her.  With her heeled shoes on, she was eye-level with his neck.  Terry and Sally-Anne had bumped right into Hermione's backside, and Harry was too busy counting to see them coming.  The result was Hermione being buried in his neck, and as he was steadying her, she got a nose full of his delicious aftershave.  She had never noticed the freckle right next to his Adam's apple before.  As she inhaled his sweetness again, Harry straightened her up.  "Whoa," he laughed.  She could feel the rumble in his chest.  "That was close… Maybe I should quit counting and watch for stray bogeys.  What do you think?" he asked her, as they got ready to start over.

She shook her head to clear all thoughts of tasting his neck out of her mind, and Harry mistook that for a negative answer to his question.  "No?  You're probably right…it's just one risk we'll have to take, your toes are too important to sacrifice.  You need them to balance, after all."

She smiled distractedly as his freckle caught her attentions again.  She was not going to get very far if she kept thinking improprieties.  She blinked and looked up at him.  "You're right, Harry.  I think you're doing fine with the counting.  Keep it up… My toes will thank you for it." 

"Let's see here," he said, looking thoughtfully out the window, green eyes sparkling like champagne, "We could call it 'S. P. M. T.'… The Society for the Protection of 'Mione's Toes."

She tossed her head back and laughed happily.  "Do you think that you'd gather members?"

"Of course, as it is a noble and worthy cause!" 

"I see.  Well, you better go make up your badges right away!  A lot of them, because I'm convinced it'll have great…"

Hermione was cut off from her reverie though, as Justin and Susan bumped into them from Harry's behind.

"Gosh, Herm.  Sorry about that!  'Suppose the floor isn't big enough, huh, Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said crossly.  "Are you alright?" he asked, fully concerned to Hermione, Justin and his klutziness forgotten.  He offered her a hand to help her off the floor.

She took his hand and dusted her skirt off.  "I'm fine, I just hope everyone improves by next time."

"Me too," Harry said, shooting daggers at Fletchley.

"Okay, students, keep it up," Flitwick called from his vantage point above the heads of the students.

The evening proved to be a lot of fun and frustration.  After practice, it was nearly time to start rounds, so Harry and Hermione stayed to help Flitwick put his room back in order.  Hermione then took her heels off.  She said she wanted to get used to them.  They made her three inches taller, and Harry wasn't sure if he liked them.  With the shoes on, her head was level with his chin.  It felt odd to him… Hugging her was certainly so.  After he had trod on her foot the third time, he hugged her to make himself feel better, and his chin didn't fit on her head like it was supposed to.  Her face was in his neck, and that was odd to him.  He supposed she had to wear the shoes, so there was no sense in complaining.  It would be an unusual complaint at that, so he kept his mouth shut and danced on, avoiding her feet as best he could. 

Their rounds went off without a hitch.  The castle seemed quieter than usual for a Tuesday night.  It was slightly out of place, but made the chore go faster with less students to talk to and fewer distractions, such as visiting with friends from different houses.

Harry's favorite part of their nightly duties came about: walking around the grounds.  He had come to think of this part of his evening as a sort of therapy session.  What was great about it was sometimes he talked, relieving anxiety, and sometimes, he listened, which made him feel like he was giving something back to Hermione.  Sometimes, they would say nothing at all, and he would bask in her company.

They were idly chatting as they walked the perimeter of the Quidditch pitch, talking about the day's business and classes.  Their discussion at present concerned the Weasleys.

"Care of Magical Creatures was pretty good today, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I thought it was interesting.  Much more than one of Professor Harris's lessons."

"She talked about centaurs a bit much, if you ask me."

"I think she fancied them, the male ones, anyway.  Bit odd… Not even human."

They were quiet for a while.

"Charlie's going to do a good job, I can tell."

"I think so too.  He'll be especially good for the Gryffindors."

"And, I think he'll want to help with Quidditch.  I know he can't be an open supporter, because he's not head of our House, but, with his help, we'll be unstoppable!"

"I bet.  It's good to have him home."

"Mm-hmm."

"Ginny too.  It seems some things are getting back to normal around here."

"About time."

"Yes it is."

They rounded the south end of the field.  Puffs of breath were seen in the air as they walked, billowing like smoke from the mouth of a dragon.  Hermione buried her hands in her cloak pockets.

"So, uh, Harry, when do you and Ron serve your detentions?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I have mine tomorrow, after rounds.  I have to meet Auror Dinwiddie at 10.30.  Ron has his Saturday with Auror Stockton.  I really have no idea what we'll be doing…Probably some sort of human guinea pigs for hexes." He said this lightly, but Hermione felt terrible.

"Harry, I've been wanting to say this to you, and Ron ever since yesterday morning, but," she paused as she stepped over a tree stump, "well, I feel horrid that you've gotten in so much trouble over me."

"You shouldn't, 'Mione."

"Yes, I should, and I do.  I don't want you risking things over people who aren't worth it, like Malfoy.  He's not worth it," she said forcefully.

They continued to walk about the grounds in silence.  Hermione glared at him.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at her, clueless to what the problem was.

"Are you going to say anything?  Don't you have some response to what I said?  Even some acknowledgement that you heard me?"

"Oh, well," Harry said, staring at the stars, puffs of white breath punctuating each word, "I was waiting for a valid point… You know, one proving I was wrong for fonging that slimy bastard, because I have yet to hear one."

"What?  I said: 'Malfoy's not worth it.'"

"Yes, I heard that part."

"That's the point," she said dryly.

"Oh, right."  He adjusted his glasses and kept walking.

"Har-ree!" Hermione said, irritation growing.

"Hermione!  Give me a reason worth listening to, and I may tell you what you want to hear!"

Hermione scoffed.  "Oh, really, Mr. Divination, and what do I want to hear, pray, tell?" She said, snide exasperation edging in her voice.

Harry stopped and looked at her plainly.  If this were over any different topic, he would have found it really amusing.  As it was, she looked borderline murderous with her hands on her hips and curly hair sticking out from underneath her winter beret.  "You want me to agree with you and promise that I'll ignore Malfoy when he opens his mouth."

Hermione was taken aback.  That was exactly what she had wanted him to say!  She looked down and took her hands off her hips.  "Well," she stammered, "yes… why do you acknowledge him?  He's just looking for a reaction from you!"  This was so simple to her, why didn't he get it?

"Hermione, I am not going to tell you that.  I'm sorry, but I'm not.  And, actually, Malfoy already knows what I'm going to do.  He's looking for a rise out of you."

Hermione huffed.  "Well, he's not getting one!" she cried, exasperated.

"He did, 'Mione," Harry said quietly.  "He embarrassed you, and you looked it.  He blackened your name in front of a whole hall of underclassmen yesterday, and he enjoyed it."  Didn't she get it?

"He did not," she replied stiffly, her pace quickening.  "And, even so, you didn't have to go being a school bully over it all!  Really, Harry!"

That stung.  He would have never thought that was how she'd have seen it.

"He did too, Hermione.  I saw the pain in your eyes and the disbelief that someone would ever say that about you."  God, it hurt him to see her like that.

She stole a glance at him from under the brim of her hat.  _Had he seen that?_  She held her head high.

They walked in silence for a bit, their pace decelerating.  Harry sighed.  "Hermione, let me put it to you like this, maybe you'll understand."  He looked at her for recognition, and upon seeing it, he continued.  "Why do you concern yourself with the affairs of house-elves?"

"What?"  She was confused.  "What does that have to do with Malfoy?"

"Never mind that, we'll get there."  He rephrased.  "Why is spew so important to you?"

"It's S.P.—"

"E. W.  I know, just answer my question, please."

"The Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare is important because they're being wronged!  They can't stand up for themselves!"  She started to delve into her whole crusade, but Harry held up a hand to stop her.

"Thank you.  That's what I thought you'd say.  Here's the problem with your reasoning, 'Mione.  They can stick up for themselves—"

"No, they can't, and what does this have to do with Malfoy?"

"Yes, they can.  Dobby demonstrated enough ability to do so.  They can, Hermione, but they don't."

"Because they've been brainwashed!"  

"'Mione, please.  I agree with you, I do."  He stopped to retie his boot and straightened.  "And it's about you and Malfoy, not just Malfoy.  Those house-elves don't stand up for themselves when they can."

Hermione gave up her side of the argument and decided to give Harry's idea a chance.  "I don't understand the correlation."

"Okay, just hear me out.  You stand up for house-elves' rights because they don't.  You know better, they don't."

"Right." She nodded.

"Are you any of those things Malfoy said or called you yesterday?"

"What?" she asked deeply hurt.  _Did he really think that was true?  Maybe that's why…_ "No!  Of course not!"  _Oh my god.  Does he really think that about me?_

"Just as I surmised.  Not a stitch of it was true," he said knowledgeably.  His 'Mione was an honorable witch, with nothing to be ashamed of.  He never questioned it, but it was necessary to get his point across.

"Harry, the point, if you please."

"Don't get frustrated with me.  I want you to understand."

She waited.

"So," he continued, "if you're not, and obviously, you aren't, you know better than those lies he was spreading about you earlier…"

"It wouldn't do any good for me to deny it.  Let him think what he wants to!"  Wasn't that just painfully obvious?

"Sure, I agree.  I just don't think he believes it in the first place.  He's testing you to see how much you'll take."

Her hands landed back on her hips and she said haughtily, "I'm not giving him the pleasure of such a response!"

He smiled down at her, remembering how she'd pretended to see Professor Moody to revenge Malfoy.  He understood that was one of the ways she got even.  Well, it was then.  It seemed that since she'd become Head Girl, she felt she had to take whatever people said…being forgiving and being a 'good example.'

"So," she said hopefully, "you see my point?" she asked, eager to end this discussion.

"No, you see, Hermione, just like how you go about the spew campaign, defending those who don't defend themselves, that's what Ron and I did yesterday."

Hermione looked put out.  "I can defend myself," she said snootily.

"I know you can."  He rolled his eyes and looked to the sky.  "You can out-duel Ron and you can damn near out-duel me.  You're quite equipped to defend yourself…especially against Malfoy."  He sighed and looked down into her strikingly brown eyes.  "I guess what I'm trying to say is that we did it because we knew you wouldn't.  I risked Head Boy because, at that very moment, that's what it took to shut him up, to make him stop.  I gave him a lesson he won't soon forget."

"If you'd just ignored him, Harry, he would have stopped and you wouldn't have broken your hand, been suspended…  oh, I could go on.  Its not worth it, Harry!"

He stopped and turned to her, his face full of astonishment.  "Don't you see, 'Mione?  Don't you?  I don't care about Malfoy!  He's not worth it!  He's not, 'Mione, but you are."  He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her slightly.  "You're worth it!  You!  Not Malfoy, or Crabbe, or Goyle!  To Hades with them!  To Voldemort!  Even the _thought_ of others hearing his nastiness about you _kills_ me!"  He took his hands off her shoulders and raked them through his wild hair.  "It's worth it to me, everything!  Head Boy, Quidditch, my broom, everything!  Going around to everyone who heard that and telling them he lied would not erase the fact that they heard it.  Showing half the school what happens when people lie about my best friends, also, will not erase it, but they will not forget what happened to him, I guarantee that.  It's the least I can do, 'Mione.  You're the one who's worth it!  Ron would say the same thing," he finished softly.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice showing his fatigue.

"Yes," she said meekly, almost in tears from his speech.  "Yes, I understand."  She gave him a feeble smile and looked down.  "I'm sorry I said you were a bad example, or a school bully.  You're not.  I was just upset."

"I understand that.  I was upset, too.  I'm sorry I told you to shut up," he apologized.

"Sometimes, I talk too much," she said humbly.

He pretended to be astonished.  "What, you?  I can't imagine!"

"Oh, Harry!  Stop it!" She pushed him playfully, and he pulled her into a one-armed hug, knocking her hat askew.  She inhaled deeply again at the hint of his smell, it made her light headed.  Harry put his chin on her head where it belonged, and for a moment, all was right in the world.  After a few seconds, he let her go, and they continued their rounds in silence, but this silence was reassured and placid.

They parted ways, Harry to the Prefect Office, and Hermione to talk with Ron, as she assumed he'd be waiting for them as he sometimes did.  She had a lot she wanted to tell him and apologize for…namely, for cursing him and questioning his judgment.  Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful to have two people like Ron and Harry looking out for her.  She thought they made a pretty good team.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

End Chapter Sixteen

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

*to fong:  to beat the holy living life force out of an organism.  Actually, this is not my word.  If you have seen 'A Knight's Tale,' you will recall that this is what the Weasley-looking guy tells Chaucer he will do if the family history he writes up fails to enter them in the tournament.  Really a funny scene… "Pain, lots of pain!"

A/N:  Never thought Harry had it in 'im, eh?  Well, I knew it all along!  Tell you what… you review, and I'll consider going on with it… Cause, if you don't tell me what you think, how will I ever know I am doing it right?  It's only fair…  Thanks for reading!  (If you got this far.)  

Thanks again to my Beta Reader, Bonnie… 'enoimreH'  I love ya, doll!  Stinky, did you get the part about Prof. Harris?  I hope it made you laugh.

Um…To those of you who may have noticed…  I changed the Slytherin Prefect around.  Maybe in past chapters it said Zabini but I decided that he was a boy…(Blaise is the name of a Catholic martyr, a bishop who saved a boy from choking on the way to his execution.)  So, I put Morag MacDougal there instead.  Find her in Chapter 7 of Book One.

For those of you who care, more H/Hr is coming… This is only a teaser.

Author:  Hey!  What's that down there?  

FanFic-er: Oh my gosh!  It's the review button!  I wonder what happens if I click it?

Author:  If you wanna, email me at xfile_56@hotmail.com … I love to hear from people.  Ciao!


	17. Ch 17, The Eleventh Hour, Part One

A/N: Oh!! What a semester. To all those still hanging around waiting for this, I thank you. Special thanks to Molly and Stinky. There's no place like home: KS forever. Thank you, Bonnie, a wonderful beta, with your excellent comments.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Associates are property of JK Rowling and her associates. No profit is being made from this fiction. God Bless JK and, please…_please_ hurry up with OOTP!

****

Chapter Seventeen: The Eleventh Hour (Part One)

"Bishop to E5," Ron commanded his chess set. The white piece moved diagonally to its victim, which it dropkicked off the board, and afterwards, dusted its hands off in position. Ron shook his head and looked exasperatedly at Harry. "Mate, you have to think ahead. Anticipate! Otherwise, you'll end up with pieces that don't trust you."

"They don't trust me, Ron. I've had this set for six years now, and they still don't trust me!"

"Maybe if we didn't see mutilation and death coming every time _he_," the queen took her crown off and shook it at Ron, "sat down! My nose will never be the same!" Her Majesty continued to holler at her owner, indicating her flattened nose.

Harry shrugged and made his move. His knight trotted to the indicated square and gave an extreme look of paranoia, as if he were right in the lion's den. "Ron, if I take my time and think it out, you tell me I'm taking too long. If I try to hurry up, I lose more pieces. I don't know what you want."

"Just do your best, Harry."

"Just win, Harry," his rook squeaked.

Harry issued a wary look to his obnoxious piece. 

It was a free period for the Gryffindors, as snow had inched up very high and it was so cold that the greenhouses had to be shut to protect the plants, therefore class was cancelled. All around the common room students were lounging in the squashy armchairs and in front of the huge fireplace. That Thursday afternoon was cozy. The low din and glowing fire were enough to put Harry into a stupor. The sky was packed gray with more awaiting snow. This was what winter days were made of, certainly.

"Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, my move, right." He sent another piece to impending doom.

Ron dropped his concentration on the game and looked at Harry, who appeared to be lost in thought, or nearly asleep. 

"What is it, Harry? You look ready to pass out there…" Ron had concern written in his slate blue eyes. "You're getting enough sleep, right? No nightmares or anything…" He presumed anxiously.

Harry broke his blank stare and gazed at Ron. He blinked twice before registering and producing a proper answer. "Just the atmosphere in here, I guess. Makes me sleepy."

Ron noticed the omission of any mention of nightmares. He was about to ask about it when he looked toward where he thought Harry was staring. Ron grinned knowingly. Sitting side by side in the far corner was Neville Longbottom and his sister, Ginny. They held an enormous Herbology book in their laps. Neville was explaining the magical properties of Poseidon's Seaweed, with Ginny listening intently to everything he was saying.

It was about a week and a half until the Yule Ball. Harry, true to form, did not ask any girl to the formal. Consequently, he had to have been asked by every available girl at Hogwarts by now. He politely declined each one, telling them all he'd made prior engagements for that evening. That wasn't a lie… He planned on ducking out of there as soon as possible. That was his prior engagement. The hopeful dates tried figuring out whom Hogwarts's Most Eligible Bachelor was dating, but with no avail. After the scene a few Sundays ago, the whole school knew it couldn't be Hermione, though many suspected it at first. Word got around about the 'disagreement' between Hermione and Ron, squashing that rumor almost immediately.

Ron also had a fair amount of girls ask him to the Ball. At 6'1", he was stunning with wavy red hair and eyes like the Mediterranean. He was popular, one, because of his Head Officer best friends, and two, because he was the Keeper on the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts. Add that to his sense of humor and the legacy of the Weasley Boys… the result was some people had trouble keeping their hands off of him. Girls panted after him nearly as much as they did Harry, and he enjoyed every second of it. He was still a little sulky after finding out about Hermione, but kept it in mind that she wasn't dating Fletchley. He'd only gotten there before Ron took the chance. Hermione just had to have feelings for him, he was sure of it. So, he was biding his time, for the next best slab of meat to walk by and ask him out. He figured he had some time left before making a decision.

"You know, Harry, you could ask my sister to the Ball," Ron suggested. He figured Harry missed his sister while she was away, or if not, that he was glad she was back, by the way he was gazing in her direction. Heck, Harry was practically a Weasley anyway, why not try and make it official?

"Hmm?" Harry snapped back to reality. "What did you say, Ron?"

"Harry, you dog! My sister, Ginny! You know, ask her to the Ball, mate!" Ron reached across the table and gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. 

"Well… er…Ron, that's really a nice offer and all, but don't you think she looks rather cozy with Neville?"

Ron gave the two another look. Ginny was asking Neville a question, and he was listening to her every word. "Aw, Harry, they're just studying. Besides, everyone looks a little cozy in here."

That was true. Out of all of the common rooms, Gryffindor's was the homiest; with it's overstuffed armchairs and large fireplace. Harry gave the two another look, which Ron mistook for a look of longing. To Harry, they looked a little more than cozy.

"Just the same, Ron, we already discussed the fact that I didn't want to go out at all. Your sister's being here doesn't change that." Harry groaned inwardly. He didn't like where this was going.

"I know what we talked about, Harry, but I mean, why not? She'd say 'yes.' It's not like you'd have to worry about rejection."

"I'm not worried about that. I just don't want to date your sister, Ron. I never have."

Ron never took 'no' for an answer, and this 'no' didn't exactly register. "Harry, man, I know you're not gay… I mean, the way you and Cho used to go at it… Come on…"

"Ron. No. I'm not interested. Don't put this between us." Ron could be so dense sometimes.

"What is it, Harry? Is she just not your 'type?' Do you only go for brown haired, brown eyed girls?" Ron asked, clearly thinking of Cho.

"Well…"

"What's wrong with my sister, Potter?" Ron was getting threatening.

"Ron." Harry paused. "There is nothing wrong with your sister. I just don't like her. I don't want to date her." After every sentence, he paused for emphasis. "I told you, I don't even want to go. I don't want to get involved with anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone. Do you get it?" Maybe by being blunt with Ron, he'd get the picture.

Ron was slow in understanding. "Well--"

"Ron, I have more important things to focus on at this stage in my life. Maybe you don't, but maybe I do. Maybe I feel it's not fair for me to get someone's hopes up, when I don't know if I'll be here two weeks from now, or even tomorrow. And, no. I am not thinking of Ginny. I'm thinking of a lot of people. Will you let it drop now?"

Ron was white. "Don't talk like that, Harry."

"Don't tell me what to do. It does no good to live an illusion."

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron said quietly.

"Don't worry about it." Harry directed his queen.

"I didn't think about what mattered."

"It's okay, Ron, really."

Ron gave him a worried look before continuing to play.

Ron and Harry were well into their second game of chess when Hermione rushed into the common room, breathless. She carried a large book in her arms, and so Harry deduced that she had just been in the library. She sat down at the end of the table and moved Ron's Astronomy work to a chair and then waited patiently for the game to end.

When the end did come, and Harry's last defending piece ran off the board before it was broken, the boys both looked at her expectantly. The chess pieces automatically put themselves away.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Well. I was in the library looking around for some Transfiguration reading. My tutoring group is getting ready to practice cross-species changes. Anyway," she continued, ignoring Ron, who was crossing his eyes, trying to annoy her, "I came across this book, Harry." She held up the book so they could see the cover: _Transfiguration Nightmares: Things To Tell Your Grandchildren About_. "Since I really didn't _need_ to look for information for my tutoring, I looked at this. You won't believe what I found, Harry."

"Well, on with it, Hermione. You have our attention now," Ron patronized.

"Yes, please, 'Mione, what is it?'

"Let me read you this." And she began to read.

"'_It was the worst experience I ever had to live through. Well, that, and once when my Aunt Charlotte made me tell my mother exactly _why_ I had a shrunken head, in front of my girlfriend, no less. Whew. That was embarrassing. Well, that's not the point, is it? What I was talking about was when I was _splinched_, so to speak, I don't really know if there is a word for it. Some of my buddies and I had a little too much fire whiskey, if you know what I mean, and started messing around with stuff we were learning in Honors Transfiguration at University. The details aren't important, but basically the outcome was that I was part billy goat and part alligator until the Ministry could come and help me. It took them about two days to get out to my house. "Backed up," they said. You have no idea how frightening it is when one half of you wants to eat the other half.' --Herbert Velperdeeme"_

"Well, Merlin, Hermione, what was the point of that?" asked Ron with dripping sarcasm.

"Shut it, Ron. Go on, 'Mione." Harry was intrigued. Maybe she had found the solution he was looking for.

"Well," she continued, shooting a look at Ron, "it gives other situations where similar things happened, but doesn't that nearly describe what you went through in detention last week."

"Yeah, it does." Harry shuddered at the memory. Harry was in Auror Dinwiddie's office last Wednesday for detention, and he had figured that he wouldn't receive any kind of serious punishment. He had no idea what he was going to experience, but what he actually did was something he had never imagined before.

_"Potter, you're early. Good. Now, from what I understand, you're always searching around for ways to greater defend yourself against the Dark Arts. Recent reports that Stockton and I have been receiving are not heartening. I have talked with the Headmistress, and she sees no problem with what I am about to do to you. Are you ready?"_

_"Ready for what? If you don't mind me asking, I mean."_

"This, Mr. Potter, is called Animelding_, and I want to warn you that state of mind and self control are key to controlling this curse."_

Harry had never heard of 'Animelding' before, but the way she said it frightened him. The next thing he knew before he could get anything else in was that his body _seemed to be fighting against itself_. He had no idea what was happening to him, it was almost like an _animal side_ of him was taking over, but he had no idea what it was. Disgusting as it sounded, he was biting himself on one side of his body, and scratching himself on the other. Suddenly, Dinwiddie immobilized him with the Petrificus Totalus curse. He was so embarrassed to have his right bicep in his mouth and his right hand frozen, ready to claw his stomach open.

_"Potter. Control. You must learn it. Now, I am going to show you what you look like." She held a mirror in front of his face. _

Harry's eyes flashed with horror, though he couldn't move. The left side of his body was that of a dog, the right, a cat. Literally, he had been transfigured into two animals at once. His body was attacking itself from the inside out. All at once, his brain was in chaos, and he was unable to think clear thought. The human side of him knew something was horribly wrong. The animal sides of him were feuding, and he was Petrified there, like an idiot, salivating on his favorite shirt.

__

"Are you listening, concentrating on me? I know it is hard; I've been through this before. Good. Now I'll explain what is going on. You have been Animelded. Your brain has been Animamelded. Your body is fighting with itself; your brain is fighting with itself. This is a newly developed curse of the Dark Arts. I believe that it's origin comes from a Dark Wizard who messed up Transfiguration curses, and it turned into this, which is the worst kind of Transfiguration curse of all. 

"To get out of this, first, you have to control all aspects of your mind. You have to control both sides of your body. Then, to get out completely, you have to conquer all parts of your brain. Then, concentrate to bring yourself back to your original self. I'm going to free you now, and I will not assist you, unless, of course, we run out of time."

Dinwiddie released him thirty minutes before his detention was over. By then, he was able to sit still for ten minutes at a time, but was unable to 'think' his way out of the situation. When she released him, she gave him a few moments to collect himself, and then further discussed the dangers of this new development.

_"In all honesty, the animal transfiguration is not the worst thing that can happen in a case like this. You experienced both Animelding and Animamelding. One is of animals, and one is of the mind, as I am certain you can reassure me. The Animelding is not as bad as it could be; it is fairly easy to release oneself of, once you get the hang of it. Stockton can do it in 45 seconds. As you know, time is of the essence._

"Animamelding is far more dangerous than you would think. When I cursed you, I implanted your brain with the attributes of a cat and dog. Unfortunately, that is not the only way you can be cursed. When forced to make a decision, an opponent may be able to submerge contradicting ideas in your head, and you have not inkling that those aren't your ideas. That way, you're never able to make a decision. It can get dangerous, Potter," she finished with dooming finality.

Harry moped some blood off on his jeans. "Is Animamelding connected with the Imperious Curse?"

"I'm glad that you asked me that. It is. Part of the theory is subservient to the Paradoxal Chaos Idea, where two contradicting things cause all chaos. Most difficult to understand is that these things cannot exist without each other, and this makes choosing so complicated. What one must do is logic the conflict out first, almost like a twisted riddle, and then rid the brain of all contradictory matter. The Imperious Curse comes in to impose the ideas on the brain. You must work on your self-control, Harry. Otherwise, we may never win." Dinwiddie looked at her watch. "I've kept you over time. Go get cleaned up, and you might ask the house elves to fix your shirt."

Harry left her office very troubled.

__

"I sympathize with that guy, though he doesn't sound to have gone through the Animamelding torture I did." Harry shook his head disbelievingly. He still couldn't believe that he actually _bit _himself and left a mark! It was frightening to him the possibilities of what the Imperious Curse could do. He thought though with practice, he may be able to control the Animelding aspect of it. From what it sounded like, Animamelding would be much harder to overcome. "Does it say anything else about it, Hermione?"

She scanned the next few pages. "No, I don't think so. It is a fairly newly developed concept, so I don't know if books have been written on the topic. I'll ask Madam Pince, though. Maybe Auror Dinwiddie could give you more practice," she suggested.

Harry did not think that that was a good idea. He shuddered to think of what he could do in meshed animal forms. What a crazy idea! The things wizards came up with! "I don't know… They seem like pretty busy people. I wouldn't want to distract them from their duties here."

"Busy? You call that busy?" Ron asked. "MY detention consisted of deflecting curses and hexes for two straight hours. Stockton is just plum crazy." Ron shook his head, and then looked thoughtfully at Harry. "Doesn't mean it wasn't worth whipping Malfoy, though."

Harry laughed in agreement.

"Well," Hermione said, switching subjects, "it doesn't mean that you can't ask them anyway. I'm sure they'd find time."

Harry grimaced. "I'll think about it, 'Mione, but… I _really _don't think so." The way he said it told her that the subject was closed and she went back to reading.

Ever since his detention last week, Harry's nightmares had gotten worse. Now, not only did he have to choose between Hermione and Ron, he had to do it while in the form of various animals. If not animals, different mindsets. Once, a few days ago, Harry woke up with the remnants of a dream that told him not to choose either of them. The opposing mind in his head was that of what he thought Malfoy was like: _"Who needs a Mudblood, Potter? Or for that matter, a poor pride-less wizard? I say let them both die."_ It went on and on until he wanted to die from the endless banter in his head. Simply refuting the ideas wasn't good enough anymore. Needless to say, he hadn't gained any sleep over the matter.

~*^*~

Before Harry and the other students knew it, it was Christmas at Hogwarts. The majority of students had remained at the campus because of safety reasons. It was getting riskier and riskier to venture away from the haven Hogwarts provided. Harry was looking forward to a quiet holiday, but with the Yule Ball and everything else involved with the season, it seemed that he wouldn't be getting his wish.

Christmas morning was crisp, with the sun turning the snowy grounds into a sheet of light, and Harry woke when the sun peeked through his curtains. He didn't really fell like crawling out of bed, as he was certain it was cold away from the sanctuary of his slumber. He wasn't expecting presents as it was, so whatever the Dursleys sent him, if anything, could wait. He was just about to go back to sleep, when his curtains were thrown open with an impatient Hermione responsible for the interruption of his repose.

He reached to his bedside table to put on his glasses, and Hermione was already on the other side of the room, harassing Ron. At least he was more enthusiastic about the whole thing.

"Up, boys! I already moved your gifts downstairs with mine so we could open them together. Come on! Daylight is wasting, and I am dying to know what you got me!" she teased, as she pulled Harry out of bed.

Harry was convinced enough. He knew when and when not to listen to Hermione, so he put on his slippers and robe and headed down the stairs with Ron after the blue robe he assumed was her.

Harry and Ron were both surprised to find the Common Room empty that Christmas morning, as about two-thirds of the tower was staying over the holiday. There was the fact that most students opened their presents in their rooms, so it was nice that they had the run of the room to themselves. Hermione had placed their piles in front of the fire, and so they situated themselves around their respective gifts. 'Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday!' Hermione had exclaimed.

They started with they gifts that they received from relatives. Ron, of course, received the traditional hand-knitted sweater. This year it was yellow, and it seemed that Molly Weasley had again forgotten to take into consideration that he was a redhead. He commented that he felt like condiments, but he wore it just the same.

Hermione received a collection of baked goods from Mrs. Weasley, as did Harry. They all opened baked goods from Hagrid. This, although not normally welcome, was that morning because it meant that Hagrid was in good enough health to bake, wherever he was.

Hermione's parents sent her a few school things and a piece of jewelry she said was to wear for the Yule Ball.

When Harry got to his gifts, he was surprised that the Dursleys actually sent him a gift. When he opened it he saw that it was just a bunch of junk flyers that they must have received in regular Muggle Post. He just shrugged it off, at least they thought to collect it and send it to him. Hermione, on the other hand, was very offended. 'They sent you stuff that they otherwise would have thrown away!' Ron thought that the concept of 'junk mail' was interesting, so Harry let him have it. 'Check designs? Harry, what are checks?' 

He also got _Little Known But Simple Curses to Get You Out of Sticky Places_ from Sirius. Harry looked inside and discovered that he had written a short note on the inside: _These may come in handy, Harry. Happy Christmas, and I may see you before you know it. ~Sirius_. There was a postscript: _Moony wishes you all a Happy Christmas as well._

Hermione and Ron were almost more excited about this 'news' of Harry's godfather than he was. In fact, just the knowledge that these people were alive and able to send gifts was better than the gifts themselves. The Trio was so excited about this news that they almost forgot to open what they got each other. 

Ron remembered of course, and they got to what they were really together in the Common Room for in the first place. Hermione started, with what Ron got her. She opened a framed picture of himself, where he was winking and flashing his gorgeous smile. He signed it, too. _To Hermione, Happy Christmas. XOXOXOX. _

"Oh, _thank you_, Ron! It is just what I always wanted!" She exaggerated a grateful hug to him, and he laughed. "Now, what did you really get me?"

Ron feigned confusion. "But, Hermione, that _is _what I really got you! Don't you like it?" He laughed, but he couldn't hold it back anymore. He handed her what could only be a poorly wrapped book.

"Did you wrap it yourself? I am really impressed." And she looked it.

Hermione opened the paper to find a book of Egyptian charms. He explained that he had Bill bring it back before he left Cairo to fight the Dark Lord.

It was as if she couldn't have received a gift better than that one, and Ron blushed up to his hairline. He in turn opened what Hermione gave him, and he nearly fainted from what he got. 

"Ron…" Hermione started, looking a little worried. "Is it okay? I thought you would like it."

Harry leaned over and took a look at what Ron was gawping at. His jaw dropped. "'Mione! That is more than okay! Where did you get it?"

"The Hogsmeade Public Library was going to throw it out, but I asked for it… Did a few repair charms on it, so I hope it will hold together…"

"Hermione," Ron stated when he had regained his composure, "you got me a First Edition _Quidditch Through The Ages_. This book must be--Merlin, I don't know."

"Three hundred forty seven years old."

There was a warm quiet in the Common Room.

"Hermione, I don't know what to say."

"Say 'thank you,' Ron, so we can get a move on."

Ron shot Harry a look, put the book on top of the junk mail and gave Hermione a spirited hug and then returned to his place. Harry started to open his gift from Ron, which was actually a long manila envelope.

He shook the envelope, and a slip of paper fell out. Harry immediately recognized Ron's handwriting, and he held it back to read the chicken scratch.

__

I, Ronald A. Weasley, do hereby make a gift to Harry J. Potter of 50 (fifty) shares of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, on this day, December 25th, 1996.

"Wow, Ron. I don't know what to say. Isn't that half your share? I don't know what to say. Thank you!"

Ron blushed at the gratitude. "I didn't know what else you wanted or needed, so I am glad it worked out. You're practically a Weasley anyway. You're welcome."

Hermione looked impressed, as she reached for her gift from Harry. He stopped looking over the note, and gave Hermione his full attention. He was incredibly nervous. 

The wrapping paper looked as though it had been smoothed over a few times, but Harry hoped that she wouldn't notice. He had been so anxious wrapping it, that he finally looked up a charm to get it done properly. 

She carefully considered the package before opening it, and said a simple 'Thank you, Harry,' before proceeding.

When she finished taking off the paper, she had a hardbound book, with a scarlet cover and gold edge protectors in her lap. It had a gold ribbon place marker hanging out of the book block. It was beautiful.

Harry watched her hands go over the cover of the book, as though her fingers were appreciating the touch of the soft velvet material. Her nails were clipped and short for practical reasons, otherwise, she would have had to scrub turtle liver out from under them after Potions constantly. Harry wished at that moment that he knew what her hands felt like.

She opened the cover, and was surprised to see a note from Harry, she read it and then smiled genuinely at Harry. "Thank you, Harry. Happy Christmas."

They sat, looking at each other for what seemed to Ron like half a minute. 

"Are you gonna share what it says, or is it some big secret?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course." Hermione cleared her throat and read:

__

To 'Mione. Happy Christmas. Whenever you feel something, or have to say something, or can't talk with Ron or I, I want you to keep track of it, because what you have to say is important. Please use it always and think of me. ~Harry.

Hermione was smiling and Harry noticed that her fingers were running over what he wrote. He really hoped she liked it. He looked for a long time at Hogsmeade yesterday to get just the right thing. And no matter what he did, he always ended up back to that journal. And then, he went through four drafts of the note before he wrote it inside. He hoped she liked it.

Ron really didn't know what to do, and so, he reached for his gift from Harry. Hermione and Harry focused their attention onto him, as to distract themselves from each other. 

Ron tore open his package to find a box, which he opened, to find another box, which he opened… This went on two more times, until he got to an envelope. Inside, he found three sets of tickets to the Final Four of the Quidditch World Cup, which was in July the next year in Marseilles, France.

Ron again was speechless. He wanted to know how Harry found such tickets, or even paid for them, because they were pretty good seats. Harry explained that he had just gone to the ticket office in Hogsmeade, and asked. They were going to charge him for the tickets, but after Harry mentioned whom he was (for purpose of withdrawing from Gringotts), he got them for free. He tried to pay for them, but the office just wouldn't have it. (Giving them to Ron was like keeping them for himself anyway, because he knew Ron would take him and 'Mione.) Ron just kept gaping at him, and so Harry reached for his gift from Hermione.

It was a small box, simply wrapped with a little bow. It just seemed so fitting because it just seemed so _'Mione_. He pulled the bow off and removed the lid. Inside, Harry was surprised to see a golden pocket watch. He lifted it out of the box, and it was cool and heavy in his hand.

Hermione watched with bated breath as Harry inspected the outside.

Harry had never seen anything quite like it. The outside was plain, but the inside was... Well, Harry was blown away. Inside was the constellation Leo with the stars as tiny rubies. The cut of the stones was that it would not scratch the face of the watch it was protecting. Underneath the lion was Hermione's trademark signature, _Love from Hermione._ There was no way she should have gotten him something so extravagant. 

"Hermione, you shou--"

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Harry Potter. I was stumped as to what to get the lot of you for Christmas, and as it was, the cost wasn't a question for either of them. I was lucky to find _Quidditch_ and that happened to have been given to me through my grandfather's estate, as I am the only surviving grandchild on his side. It would have been Michael's, but it's mine, and I am giving it to you." She turned red as she blurted this last bit out. Michael, as Harry remembered, was Hermione's baby brother who died of pneumonia when she was six and he was four.

"Hermione--"

"Really, Harry, I have no use for it. I'm surprised it even--"

"Thank you."

"Wha--oh. Well, you're welcome. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

There was a still silence in the Common Room as Harry and Hermione avoided each other's glance. Ron was so enthralled with his _Quidditch _book that he was oblivious to the whole thing, after he found out that Harry actually got something, he went back to paging (carefully) through it with one hand, and his Final Four tickets in the other.

The silence was broken as some Fifth Years came down the stairs with their Filibuster Fireworks and other Zonko's gags. Hermione busied herself with cleaning up the wrapping paper and gathering her gifts. Harry did the same. 

Later that day, fitting with the Christmas tradition all of Gryffindor Tower seemed to be outside on the grounds involved in a great snow fight. All the girls attending the Ball sat it out, watching the boys hammer each other again and again with what seemed walls of moving snow. Hermione and Ginny were no exception; they were safely out of snowball reach. Harry and Ron tried in vain to get them to join in and when their pleadings didn't work, they then turned to a sort of _competition_. Hermione and Ginny couldn't figure it out, really. Hermione knew the charm that the two were trying to use, but it was too much fun watching them struggle with it to actually tell them what they were doing wrong. 

It took Ron and Harry a long time to get bored with their game, and when they did, they turned their attention to a group of Slytherins who were playing in the snow over the next hill. Unfortunately for Ron and Harry, the Slytherins _did_ have a good handle on the Snow Propelling Charm. Before it could get too out of hand, it got very dark, as more snow was coming in Hogwarts's direction. The students trudged up the hill to the castle to prepare for Christmas Dinner and the Ball. The Gryffindors were promising that the Slytherins' day was coming, and the Slytherins rolled their eyes.

Ron and Ginny were quiet as they headed back to the castle. Hermione supposed it was because of their disagreement a few nights before. Ron told Ginny that she was going to attend the Ball with him. When she protested, he explained that 'No boy at this school is going to do so much as look at you in the wrong way. I know how they think, Ginny, and I absolutely think that you should go with me.' When that didn't work, Ron suggested that she should be his date because he hadn't seen her in years and it would be good for them to spend the evening together at dinner and the dance. When _that_ didn't work, Ron reminded her that it wasn't like they were going to spend every dance and every moment with each other, he just wanted a couple of them. That worked when Hermione reassured her that he would forget she was there a few minutes after the dance started. Hermione knew that Ron came up with this when he realized he had refused one too many 'agreeable' dates. That meant that Eloise Midgen had asked him, and he knew he'd waited too long.

Harry was quiet because he knew that if he opened his mouth, he would be sick all over the snow with nervousness. He hated dances, but he wanted to go to this one all the same. It was hard to explain. He wanted to do something else, anything else, really, short of detention with Snape or Filch…but at the same time, he desired to be in the thick of it all. No… that wasn't right. He hated that, but he wanted to be there…because _Hermione _would be. She'd be in the thick of it, and he wanted to be near her. He knew he'd only realistically get to eat dinner at the same table, as all the Seventh Year Prefects ate together, and dance the first dance. 

Oh, that blasted dance!! No matter how much they practiced, they couldn't seem to get it right. Professor Flitwick tried his best to instruct, but there was nothing he could do about Harry's two left feet. He felt truly sorry for Hermione, as she would end up looking stupid because of him. He had tried to talk himself out of the situation more than once, but she wouldn't hear of it. There was nothing he could do except prepare himself for the worst. He wanted it to be nice; he just couldn't will it into being. 

And, he supposed a good reason for going was to make sure Fletchley didn't try anything funny. One toe out of line, and that boy would get what was coming to him. And, if he broke Hermione's heart… he would rue the day.

As Hermione made her way up to the castle, she was quiet, anticipating her evening at the Ball. She'd get excited about it, the preparation, the whole affair, everything, and then remember she wasn't going with Harry--she was going with Justin. No matter how much she told herself that she brought it all on herself, she couldn't help but feel resentful toward Justin. She knew it wasn't his fault for any of it, and that she should live with the decisions she made… She even knew that she hadn't a chance at all with Harry in the first place; she didn't know what she was getting all worked up about. Her next thought was nervousness about dancing with Harry, although they had been practicing it forever, it seemed… It wasn't nervousness about doing well, she knew they had it down pat, much better than Susan and Terry and all the others. Hermione just had these butterflies she couldn't explain. Maybe it was because the school would finally see how well Harry and she danced together. _Oh, _right, _Granger, talk about a biased opinion!_ She couldn't go on thinking that kind of thing, because she would only be setting herself up for disappointment. She resolved to do what she had to do this evening, as formally and as business-like as possible. With that, she stuck her chin up high, walking into the blowing snow, past Harry and the others to the castle. She only had a few hours to prepare, and she'd be fed to a Manticore before she'd attend with snow in her hair.

~*^*~

"Hermione, this is _hopeless!"_

"Hermione, stop blinking."

"Hermione, stop moving your head. I need you to be perfectly still.'

Hermione sighed as she held her head to the side. Lavender jammed a pin into her scalp. Whether intentionally or not, she never knew. 

"Ow!"

"Sorry, but if you held _still, _Hermione…"

"OW!" Parvati had just poked her in the eye with eyeliner.

"Oooh. Hermione, I am sorry for that, but if you didn't blink…"

That was enough. Hermione had let them do this because they 'wanted' to. She was fine with just preparing for the Ball herself, but her roommates insisted.

"Blinking is a reflex humans tend to do when blunt objects are heading for their eyes. Sorry."

"Well, you don't have to get all frosty about it."

"Hermione, stop moving your head."

That was definitely enough.

"Lavender, I refuse to stop breathing just so you can push pins into my head. I've had enough of this." Hermione stood up to leave. 

"You're done, anyway. _I_ can't do anything else for you. I've tried my best," Lavender said snootily.

"Yes, I've finished, too." Parvati resolutely put the cap on her eyeliner and fluffed her hair.

Hermione turned to look in the mirror. She stifled a gasp…She looked hideous. Lavender and Parvati may have transformed her into what they called beautiful, but Hermione had other ideas. She checked her watch. She hadn't much time, a little over an hour before she was supposed to meet Harry in the Common Room to go down to dinner. She was secretly grateful that House Prefects had to eat together rather than with dates, because she preferred Harry's company to Justin's any day. Conversation would be easier with her best friend rather than with someone she was dating, but 'only as friends,' or whatever. She hated when things weren't definite, and she'd rather just go with what she knew. And she knew Harry.

Lavender and Parvati were oblivious to Hermione as she grabbed her robe and towels to head for the Prefect bathroom. They were already engrossed in who they thought would have the best dress from each House. Hermione rolled her eyes. Did those girls do anything but gossip?

Toweling his hair as he exited the Prefect bathroom (he had received his privileges again as of that weekend), Harry still felt ill. The butterflies were relentless; he didn't know how he was going to get through the evening, much less the dinner. He honestly didn't know what his problem was. He always blew things out of proportion. Dinner, a dance… It was just like Friday nights in Hogsmeade with Cho, he'd be fine.

Well, he couldn't keep telling himself that it was the same thing. Harry knew that it was completely different this time. The whole school would be able to watch him eat, if the students were so inclined to do so. He imagined himself spilling Christmas pudding down the front of his new robes. And, he wasn't even certain if he liked his robes. The witches at the boutique were enthusiastic, but he was sure they wanted his money. He didn't know much about robe shopping, so maybe he bought a more expensive set--

"Oof. Ohmygoodness, Hermione, I didn't see you there. Aren't you supposed to be getting ready?" Harry was flustered as he bent down to help her pick up her towels. Hermione bent down at the same time and bumped heads with him.

"Ow!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, here." Harry handed them to her.

"Yes, I am getting ready. My roommates wanted to play a little dress-up, and they got carried away." Oh, Merlin, he smelled good. She was going to lose her balance; they hit heads pretty hard.

Harry felt uncomfortable. He was definitely not going to be able to eat tonight.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I should go get ready, now. See you in an hour." She slipped inside the door after whispering the girls' password: Orchid whistle.

__

One hour? How was he ever going to be able to manage getting through the evening? He started to go through the opening dance in his head. _One, step left, left and hold. Two three four. Half back, turn--_No… It was half forward, turn. Oh, Merlin, how was he ever going to do this?

~*^*~

Hermione finished applying powder to her face. _There_, she thought. _I look like myself, just not so pale._ She straightened her dress and prepared to go downstairs to meet Harry. He was going to escort her to the Great Hall.

It was true, Hermione, contrary to popular belief, did actually apply make-up from time to time. She never overdid it, and in fact a lot of girls would say she undershot the look, but she was satisfied. She could barely tell she had any on. The only reason she bothered was because Madam Pomfrey had asked her the other day if she was sick; she said she was so pale. Then, the nurse told her she didn't get enough sleep, and she had circles under her eyes. Hermione knew when to take a hint, but she couldn't help her everyday appearance, she just had no time for it.

She was nervous about her hair, though. She ran across a straightening charm a few weeks ago by accident. She was very self-conscious, as she didn't have her head as greatly framed as it was normally. She stayed simple with her hair, because she figured she was a simple person, and definitely not pretentious. She had it trimmed the day before in Hogsmeade, and her head felt slightly lighter, though she doubted anyone else would bother to notice.

The more she considered her looks, the more self-conscious she got, so she grabbed her wrap and headed down the spiral staircase to meet her escort.

Harry was having a horrible time getting his hair to flatten down. For _once_ in his lifetime, he wanted something to go his way, and it just wasn't happening. The mirror taunted him about seeing the same thing twenty years before, but he couldn't figure out what it was talking about. Finally, Ron came over to see what all the racket was about, shutting it up with two sentences. 

"Your dad must have had this room, too, Harry. Shut up, mirror, and give him some peace."

"No fair," the mirror whined.

So, his dad had the same room? That made Harry feel one inch closer to the father he never knew. And, his dad had impossible hair, too? At least he knew it wasn't his fault.

"There's nothing you can do… You're hopeless."

"Well, then I won't worry anymore, will I? What a great lot of help you've been."

"Thank you."

Harry turned his attention his wardrobe. He looked for the cologne he had tucked back there somewhere. He hadn't worn any in a long time, he just didn't think about it. In fact, he hadn't worn any since Cho had asked him to. What was it called, anyway? _Wizard_, No. 7., or some smelly stuff like that. It made him think of Cho, and that wasn't necessarily a good thing. They'd parted ways peacefully, so it wasn't uncomfortable. The whole thing was just _wrong. _He decided against looking for it, because he was wasting time. 

Next order of business: a flower for Hermione. He knew he wasn't her date, but he did get the privilege of escorting her for the first few minutes of the evening. He doubted that Fletchley would remember, especially since he didn't. Just a few minutes before, he saw Dean with one for his date, and he thought it was a pretty good idea. The problem with this was he had no idea what kind of flower she wanted. Or what color dress she was going to be wearing. Oh, what a mess! He sat down on his bed and wasted a whole five minutes thinking about it. Then, he spent another ten trying to transfigure a quill into a good looking flower. 

Ron stood back and watched Harry sweat over a flower for a few minutes. He didn't know what he was getting all worked up about, it was only Hermione. It wasn't like he was worried about what Ginny thought of him. Harry knew Hermione was his friend; he had nothing to worry about. 

After much tribulation, Harry was finally satisfied. He realized that it had gotten very quiet in his dorm room, and it was because there was no one in there. Realizing the time, and that he was making Hermione wait, he grabbed his over robe, and headed down the spiral staircase. He trudged back up the stairs when he realized he left his wand. Then, he made two more trips, one for the flower, and another for the watch she had given to him for Christmas that morning. He actually had a pocket in his vest for it, so he wanted her to see him with it. He liked the watch, he liked it a lot. He didn't know if he had ever received a more thoughtful gift.

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall. Harry was supposed to meet her down in the Common Room five minutes ago. Did he forget? Did he back out? Did he change his mind? Hermione lost her breath at her next thought. _Did he have a date he met instead?_ She hadn't even bothered to ask him if he was taking someone to the Ball. How inconsiderate of her. She supposed it wasn't any of her business to begin with, but she should have asked anyway.

Instead of worrying, she turned to talk with a set of Fifth Years who were also waiting for their dates.

Harry almost burst into the Common Room, but halted himself and made himself catch his breath before entering. It wouldn't look good if he was panting all over the place. 

He entered the room, scanned the faces of those still waiting around, and those of the Third Years and below, who weren't attending. His heart fell. He didn't see 'Mione anywhere. She must have gone with Justin instead.

And then he saw her. Harry stood, now knowing why he didn't recognize her from the back. She didn't see him, she had just turned to listen to the student she was talking to. There she stood, with the longest hair Harry had ever seen, even longer than Lavender Brown's. She had straightened her hair, which when normally let down, settled at mid back. But now, it very clearly was at the base of her back. She had pulled the top half into a series of twists that reminded him of her at the Ball three years ago. Her hair looked so soft, Harry actually caught himself reaching out to touch it, though he was across the room. 

Hermione turned to listen to the other student, and Harry caught a better look at her dress. He smiled when he realized what he was seeing, and he felt confident about his flower choice. She was wearing Gryffindor Red. Gryffindor Red with golden trim and barely noticeable gold embroidery. In the firelight, she looked radiant, the gold mixing with the honey brown of her hair, and her skin seemed to glow. Harry stood nearly gaping and appreciating how the dress emphasized her slim figure. The halter style of the dress was modest enough, though Harry thought it was borderline risqué for 'Mione. He wasn't about to complain, as it gave him a welcome glimpse of the tops of her breasts, reaffirming what he had known since fifth year: Hermione Granger matured nicely. 

Two years ago, he caught himself thinking about that in Astronomy Lab. The Gryffindors were at the top of the Astronomy Tower one Wednesday at midnight. It was the late fall and chilly, and Hermione had forgotten to bring her sweater. He had a hard time thinking about stars after Professor Sinistra had paired them off together to share a telescope. As it was then, and like the present, he reminded himself that she was not to be thought of like that. She would be very offended if she knew, to be certain.

The halter style exposed her shoulders. She seemed to be lighter; less hindered by the conservative clothing, heavy rucksack and general stress she seemed to always be carrying. She even looked as though she had gotten extra rest, though Harry knew it wasn't the truth.

He remembered himself and was about to go greet her when Neville pulled him aside for idle chat. Though his attention never wandered far from Hermione, he politely listened to Neville as he told him some story about Trevor.

Hermione looked around the Common Room for Harry. Surely he hadn't gone down without her. Amy Spinnet started talking about Quidditch and how she couldn't wait for it to start back up at the beginning of the next term, when Hermione zoned out completely. She caught sight of Harry, who had the misfortune of being stuck listening to one of Neville's stories.

She couldn't help but sigh as he leaned up against the fireplace. His presence was commanding of all the attention in the room. Hermione even heard Amy Spinnet, who was deeply involved with a Ravenclaw Sixth year, falter in her speech. The boys in the Common Room sat and stood a little straighter, perhaps to make the girls aware that testosterone did exist in more than just Harry Potter.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of him, and when he laughed as Neville said something comical, she almost died. It was clear, confident and so incredibly sexy. It wasn't as though he didn't have this affect on her all the time, he did. But tonight, it was amplified. He was exceedingly masculine. Hermione felt stupid thinking that, but he just exuded this all-out attractiveness that she nearly melted into a puddle upon the floor.

He laughed again, slapped Neville on the back and ran his hand through his hair. She knew how it felt, she knew how it smelled, but she would have failed an Arithmancy exam just to feel it between her fingers again. She almost reached out to touch his raven locks, but she stopped herself. She would have looked very stupid indeed. 

She brought her attention back to the two girls, or tried to anyway. She discovered that the conversation had turned to Professor Trelawney, of whom she had no interest. As they discussed tea leaves and smoke, she looked again in Harry's direction. He caught her eye, and she smiled nervously. Oh heavens! She'd never felt this way before about Jeremy or Viktor!

Harry's conversation with Neville ended, and he started to walk in her direction. It was then that Hermione actually took the opportunity to see how he was dressed. He wore such a dark shade of midnight blue that it was almost black. For some reason, it matched his hair, and the affect made his eyes nearly glow. Had she ever seen them so green? He was classically dressed in a vest with silver trim, white dress shirt, dark blue tie and black trousers. She smiled when she saw he was wearing the pocket watch she gave him. His over robe fitted as a waistcoat would, and the lower half was styled more like a dress robe. Overall, he looked clean and fresh, not stuffy as so many other boys she had seen that evening. 

Hermione excused herself and willed her legs to walk her over to him. She bumped into an end table and nearly tripped in the heels she had practiced dancing in for weeks before this evening. Harry caught her arm to help her keep her balance. 

"Careful. I don't think they'll find a substitute for me so late in the game. You're all I've got," Harry teased.

"Well, I'll try to keep that in mind. Shall we get going?" Was she ever going to find her voice?

Harry took a deep breath. _Well, this is it, don't screw it up, Potter._ "Yes." He offered her is arm and she took it. Her hand was so light he barely noticed she was there, though her touch made his whole side warm.

"You-you look nice, Hermione." _Great choice of words, Shakespeare._

Hermione blushed shyly and said, "Thank you. You do too."

They were nearly to the portrait hole when he remembered his flower. He pulled it out from inside his over robe, and held it out to her. 

"Here, Hermione, this is for you."

Hermione was stunned. He held a perfect thornless golden rose out to her. "Harry, you didn't have to." She reached for it, and he dropped it.

__

Way to screw it up, Potter.

Both Harry and Hermione bent down to pick it up, and again, they bumped heads.

"We've got to stop doing this." 

"Yes, we do…otherwise, we'll end up killing each other."

They both laughed nervously and exited through the portrait hole.

Christmas dinner and the Great Hall were as perfect as they had always been during the holidays. There were Christmas trees everywhere with white candles glowing from the branches, and snow was falling from the enchanted ceiling.

The Prefects and Head Officers were seated at a long table below the head table. Harry felt nervous with McGonagall and Snape eating over his shoulder. Hermione sat to his left, and to his dismay, Finch-Fletchley sat on her other side. It wasn't as if he didn't expect it, but he was hoping that Fletchley would have falling off the face of the planet before the evening.

Dinner was going really well for Hermione. She held pleasant conversation with both Harry and Justin, though she felt as though they were kind of playing a tug-of-war with her attention. She knew that Harry wasn't as fond of Justin as he used to be, but she felt as though he was being kind of selfish.

As the plates starting clearing themselves of the meal, several selections of dessert appeared in its place. Chocolate cream, lemon meringue, pecan, mincemeat, strawberry rhubarb, peach, apple and pumpkin pie. There was one piece there for every student at the table. Hermione reached for the pumpkin as she was telling Justin about her trip to France the previous year. As she tried to pull it away, she found that Harry also had a hand on it. They both put it down. 

"You can have it," they both said in unison, as they reached for a less appetizing type of dessert.

"No, you go ahead."

"No, really."

And, as Hermione reached to give it to Harry, somehow a goblet of hot chocolate got knocked over. Hermione quickly pulled her wand out of her hair, releasing the series of twists, and cleaned the mess before it ruined anyone's clothing. Harry again was drawn to the sheer length and beauty of her hair and was about to profusely apologize profusely for his clumsiness when Justin jumped in with the comment of the evening.

"Your hair, Herm. Something's different. Hold on, let me guess."

Harry rolled his eyes as Finch-Fletchley proceeded to guess everything under the sun from a permanent to a color change. Finally Harry leaned over and said, "It's straight."

"Oooh. It's very nice."

"Thank you," Hermione said, slightly embarrassed by what just transpired.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment until Harry again offered the pie to her. 

"Really, 'Mione, I like rhubarb too," Harry said as enthusiastically as he could. In truth, he hated just about everything on the table, except the pumpkin. It was the only thing usually left over from Dudley when he was younger, and he leaned to enjoy it.

"Really? Do you mean it?"

"Be my guest." And, to prove his point, he grabbed the strawberry rhubarb and took a larger-than-necessary bite._ Oh, I am going to be sick._ "Ifsfellygoo."

Hermione laughed, finally convinced, and took the pie. Harry looked after it longingly. Hermione had turned to Justin to finish her story about a little French boy she met in the market. She took the bowl of whipped topping and put a dollop of it on top of her pie. _Oh, now you're ruining it!_ Harry couldn't help but think. Then, he got the idea that maybe the whipped topping would help mask the taste of the rhubarb. So, he covered his remaining pie, and started to eat.

"Pretty fond of that white stuff, aren't you, Potter?" Malfoy said distastefully with meringue on his lower lip. 

The table quieted.

"Only you would think of that, Malfoy." Harry shot back.

"Please, can you hold off your animosity for one night?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. 

"Yes, Hermione." Harry dutifully answered, and concentrated on getting the pie down.

He didn't hear any more from Malfoy, though he did pick up the word _whipped_ from that end of the table. He didn't know if Malfoy was talking about him, or about the topping. He would just prefer that Malfoy kept his big fat mouth shut indefinitely.

Sally-Anne wasn't proving to be very interesting to talk to, as she was hanging on to Terry's every word, and Harry found himself being drawn to Hermione's conversation with Justin.

That wasn't very interesting either, and he found himself being drawn to Hermione's pie again, or at least the eating of it. He watched as she brought that perfect pie with what he decided was the perfect amount of whipped topping to her perfect red lips. And he wanted it. The pie, the lips, everything. He felt this pang of jealousy… Did he want to be the one eating the delicious pie? Or did he just want to be the fork? He watched as she again brought the perfect pie to her perfect lips, surrounding the fork in their loveliness.

He wanted to be the fork.

And then the pie was gone. Hermione had left the crust, but Harry had never liked the crust either, so it didn't bother him. Justin shot him a dirty look, because he must have been staring. Harry looked away, but not after shooting one back to him. He looked to his pie, and thought he was going to be sick.

To his good fortune, the plates cleared themselves again, and he would never have to see that disgusting excuse for a dessert for the rest of his life. To his misfortune, students started to get up. The clock in the tower was striking nine o'clock. It was time to start the dance.

__

Oh no.

A/N II: If you paid attention to the title, this is only part one. Part two will be up in a more timely fashion than part one was. All comments are welcome; the only thing I ask is that you _make_ comments. I believe that if people take the time, sweat and effort to post something, it is the reader's responsibility to review. Quid pro quo.

By the way, the review button is that periwinkle button to the bottom left-hand corner of your screen. Please be constructive. Thanks for reading, if you got this far. ~Steph.


	18. Ch 17b, The Eleventh Hour, Part Two

A/N: Hey, guys!! Here I am again with another update!! Just a few bits of thanks… Um… To Sierra, thanks for working out that scene with me. I really appreciate your help. Bonnie… Thanks for putting up with me, I try. FYI, readers: There is not a canon clock tower at Hogwarts. It is a figment of my imagination. The French in this fic shouldn't be hard. If so, take it to an online translator. (I seriously think you can handle it.) Oh, yeah…By the way… Pumpkin pie is a concept not developed by me, but I feel that I have a right to use it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Associates are property of JK Rowling and her associates. No profit is being made from this fiction. God Bless JK and, thank the Lord for the publication date. Where will YOU be on June 21, 2003?

****

Chapter Seventeen: The Eleventh Hour (Part Two)

It was time to start the dance.

__

Oh no.

Hermione excused herself for a moment as professors were clearing the tables from the center floor. Out of nowhere appeared a larger version of the dance floor that had been the source of Harry's troubles for the past month or so. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. There was no backing out now, and how he dreaded the whole school laughing at him.

He began to worry if Hermione was ever going to come back from the restroom at all. He watched the snow fall from the enchanted ceiling to avoid looking too nervous. Professor McGonagall stood in the center of the dance floor and addressed the students:

"What you are about to see is a time honored tradition at Hogwarts. It's taken some dusting off, but when some of your instructors attended, this was a common sight. It is the duty and the privilege of the Prefects and Head Officers to bring this to you tonight. Please note that they have been working very hard for months under the supervision of Professor Flitwick. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Hogwarts Waltz."

Harry swallowed. He turned to look for Hermione, hoping she hadn't abandoned him. She was right there, ready to lay her hand on top of his as all eight students walked out to the floor.

Hermione rushed out of the bathroom, after quickly re-charming her hair into its twists and casting a spell on her skirts to make her dress lighter. Her dress was awfully heavy, and it would be hard to dance in it. She stood by Harry's side; hopefully he didn't think she'd abandoned him. 

They walked to the center of the floor, and Harry held his left hand up to her. She took it. Now, five counts until they started dancing.

"May I have this dance?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't trust anyone else to toss me."

Harry gulped.

"'Mione," Harry whispered. "I don't remember if it was 'step left' first, or 'right'…"

"It's left for you, right for me… Here we go."

And, as Professor Flitwick promised, they could not count on the music. At first, it reminded Hermione of Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party, and then it stopped completely. They kept going, though. If she lost her concentration, there would be no hope, because everything Harry did, she had to do backwards. 

Without the pressure of roughly 1000 eyes watching, it truly was a fun dance. It was exhilarating to Hermione as Harry swung her around the edge of the dance floor and picked her up, his hands around her waist, and swung her high into the air. Harry looked as though he wasn't having much fun at all. He was always muttering numbers and directions under his breath, being careful not to tread on her dress. She blessed him then, for being so considerate, but felt terrible that he was still being so careful. 

They got a minute breather as Hufflepuff began their highlight. Harry and Hermione held still in their pose as Justin and Susan circled around them, doing an interpretation of what they had done moments before. They were cheek to cheek, and Hermione could feel Harry's heavy breathing on her ear. It was enough to make her giggle, but she couldn't without ruining the dance.

"You're doing wonderfully, Harry," she whispered in his ear. 

"I have a great partner," came his reply.

Harry was having a hard time concentrating. He was pressed very close to Hermione, as what the dance called for, but it was different now. Now, about five hundred people were watching him dance with the most beautiful girl in school. She was in his arms, and she was breathless. Realistically, he knew it was because of the physical activity and not because of him, but it was still a nice image. At that very moment, he was the luckiest person in that room, and he knew it. As they stood still, he felt her heartbeat through his cheek, she smelled so sweet that counting the steps was all he could do to control himself.

Terry and Sally-Anne started to circle the dance floor.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. _She's going to have to stop doing that._ "You shouldn't have to count. You know this like the back of your hand."

"It gives me something to concentrate on."

Hermione let it slide because she truly didn't feel like talking. The buttons on his vest were pressed into her bodice, and they were so close that she felt talking might break her concentration on the task at hand.

__

He's your friend, he's your friend, he's your friend, he's your friend.

And though the Ravenclaw Prefects made a nice spectacle, Hermione couldn't help but notice that she and Harry still kept a fair amount of attention on the dance floor. It thrilled her, and she felt so guilty for feeling that way, that so many of her school mates got to see her in his arms. And did she see some girls looking jealous? The possessive side of her felt triumph. For the next five minutes, Harry Potter would be in her arms, and all those girls would have to stand there and watch.

Draco and Morag began their part of the dance.

"Do you think this was worth it? All this rigmarole, I mean?" Harry asked Hermione.

She considered it, considered all the times her toes were bruised, she'd been knocked down, dropped… and then she thought about how much fun she'd had learning this dance with Harry. He rarely got frustrated with her, and he was always charming when he messed up. Sometimes, she was so fearful for his life and just how much longer she had with him on this earth, that if all he could do while he spent time with her would be to step on her feet, or to let her slip from his sweaty hands and bruise herself…then so be it. For all the faith she had in him, sometimes she felt as though his days were terminally numbered. To the end of the week, the month… Harry's fate was a dark cloud that loomed not only over himself, but her and Ron, too. So, yes… All the frustration of this silly dance and the paranoia of everyone watching were small prices to pay for time with Harry. Though she could never tell him exactly that, she could answer his question.

"Yes, I do. It makes this Christmas even more special."

Harry pulled away from her and considered her answer. He smiled, and again, she was glad he was there to hold her up.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

The Slytherins ended their part, and there was a five second pause before they all started dancing together. The whole of the student body burst into applause. 

And as polka music started up, Harry and Hermione started a modified tango. There was no rose, as Hermione had tucked hers into her hair in the restroom. (Justin had failed to get her a corsage.) There was excitement on the dance floor, their hard work and practice was paying off. When Hogwarts did something, they did it in style, that was for certain.

Much too soon, in Hermione's opinion, the waltz had finished. The students burst into applause another time and stepped onto the dance floor. Harry checked his new watch. It was roughly nine thirty. _Only two and a half more hours to go._ Before he knew it, he watched Hermione being swept away by Justin Finch-Fletchley. If that boy knew what was good for him…

He was tapped on the shoulder. Harry turned around to see Susan Bones there, waiting for something.

"May I have this dance, Harry?" She looked completely pleased with herself. Harry couldn't help but wonder if someone spiked the punch (and if she had had her fair share).

The gentleman in Harry kicked in as he remembered when he first asked Cho to dance at the Halloween Festival his fifth year. She certainly had taken pity on him at that moment, because he was a nervous wreck. Thankfully, Cho could lead and look gorgeous at the same time. That night, they danced together six times.

"Sure, Susie. Let's dance."

They circled the dance floor, Harry's eyes never truly leaving Hermione. He just didn't trust that Fletchley boy. It wasn't that he was a football fanatic. Harry could understand fanaticism…even Muggle sport fanaticism. Maybe it was the zero interest in Quidditch, or his air headed self. There was something about that boy that made Harry feel uneasy. And he didn't like the way he called her 'Herm.' Yech.

"So, Harry, I was thinking… You know, we do have a lot in common. We're both supervisors of our respective Houses. We both were raised outside our natural homes. We both _love_ Quidditch." She said that last bit with a syrupy sweetness that made Harry pull back a little. "And, we both lost our parents to the same evil hand. I think we have a lot in common." After finishing that rendition, she batted her short eyelashes at him.

Harry was quiet for a moment. And, what was her point? Neville Longbottom had suffered a similar fate, and it didn't mean that they were destined to dance together, or whatever it was she wanted.

Susan must have thought he wasn't listening to her. 

"My, you're a good dancer, Harry. Hermione Granger was very lucky to snag you as a partner."

Hermione…yes. Harry turned Susan to get a better look at Hermione. She was laughing, and she looked flushed.

Susan must have wanted more attention.

"Why, Mr. Potter, you're nearly as graceful on the dance floor as you are on the Quidditch Pitch," she simpered.

Now, that was an outright lie. There was nothing better that Harry Potter did than fly around the Quidditch Pitch. He wasn't being conceited, he just felt that that was the thing he did best. Cho told him he needed a fair amount of work on his dancing, whether or not that was exaggeration is left unknown, but he knew Susan Bones was after something.

But, he again remembered himself and responded in the like. The music was ending, and he could run away.

"Thank you, Miss Bones, for the pleasure of this dance," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"You're--ow!"

"Oh, Susie, I'm sorry. I'm really not as good as you make me out to be." He didn't intend to get her foot; she was in open toed shoes for Merlin's sake!

Susan grimaced as she inspected her foot. "Don't worry, Harry. I barely felt it."

And before he knew it, she had limped off. He felt really bad.

Hermione saw Susan limp away from Harry and felt a tweak of triumph. Susan was only after the image anyway, and wouldn't know what to do with Harry Potter if he came in a gift box and all he was wearing was the bow. 

__

Hermione Granger, you did not_ just think that!_

That's it. No more being jealous of people for the rest of the night!

"So, Herm, what do you think about the decorations? I think they're really nice, but we could do without the carolers, eh?"

She had to agree with Justin, as in the corner near the back door the Hogwarts ghosts were trying to serenade the students not dancing. They were horribly out of tune and clashed with the music. The only one who nearly had the right idea was the Bloody Baron. He was slumped against the wall, glaring at the students. 

"I guess the Baron is here to keep Peeves away. That was nice of him."

"I don't know, I think Peeves would add some charm to the ensemble, don't you?"

Hermione laughed, thinking about every encounter she had ever had with Peeves the Poltergeist. 'Charm' was not a word she would use to describe what he would add to anything.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I am." Justin laughed as he steered her around the dance floor.

Harry went to get himself some punch. Thus far, he had danced with Amy Spinnet, Lisette Jordan, Anita Matthews and Ellen Johnson: the girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch crew. He also made an appearance with the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Bradie Thomas (Harry tried to stay away from Ravenclaws, as a rule, though.) As he finished his cup of punch, he turned, not really knowing what he was going to do next, when he saw Ron. 

Ron had completely forgotten that he had taken Ginny, just as Harry predicted he would. Ron was also having a spin on the dance floor with Amy Spinnet. In fact, Ron had been in the arms of a different girl at every dance. Harry saw dances as a waste of his time, Ron saw them as an opportunity to socialize and string up a long line of followers.

He wondered if Neville had found the company of Ginny Weasley yet, before other boys did. He turned to his left, and found that he had. They weren't dancing, as it probably was a dangerous endeavor. He was surprised on two counts. First, that Neville was able to talk to her. Harry had known (because Neville talked in his sleep, and Harry had frequent sleepless nights) that Neville appreciated Ginny's appearance at least. Second, that they were both so honest and just gave up on the whole dancing thing. They were talking in a quiet corner together. The sight made Harry smile. Perhaps Ginny had recovered from her crush on him… at least he hoped so.

Hermione was having a very nice time after all. She didn't only dance with Justin. Terry, Colin, Telly Clearwater, and Ernie Macmillan had all asked her to dance. Even Draco Malfoy asked her to dance, but she was certain he was drunk. He must have been, because she saw him and Goyle doing an exaggerated waltz at one point. _A little inebriated, I would say._ Hermione thought to herself. Justin was even a pleasure to dance with, though the height difference was a little bit of a stretch. Though Ron was taller than he was, it seemed there was more of a difference. Maybe it was because Ron didn't make her feel small. Justin was much broader than he was, and so Hermione felt dwarfed. 

Their conversation was what Hermione liked the most about dancing with him. He was quite funny…the only thing was, she felt that she had to ask permission to dance with other boys, because when they would cut in, Justin would protest, well, at least Hermione felt it was overly so. She was used to being her own woman, and this just wasn't going to work out.

When her favorite song came on and she and Justin started dancing, it was nice. About halfway though, Ron came up, ready to cut in. One would think that it would be an easy transition from Justin to Ron. No. Justin had to play his silly little game and discuss it with Ron. Hermione had had enough, and so she just held her hands in position to Ron. He took them, and they started to dance in the other direction. Justin, bewildered, made for the refreshment table.

"Are you sure you like him?"

Hermione turned to make sure Justin was out of earshot. "Yes, he's very nice and funny, I just don't think he understands things as well as others."

__

Ooh, Fletchley-boy. "It's a good thing I was there to rescue you from blond-zilla, then?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, it is! I was wondering if you were going to remember me tonight. I think you've danced with just about every girl here. And won their hearts, too."

Ron considered her carefully. "Do I have your heart, Hermione?"

That was very easy to answer. "Yes, Ron. You and Harry have had my heart since you rescued me from that mountain troll. Harry, when his wand went straight up that nostril, and you, when you clobbered it with a levitating charm. Your enunciation was perfect, by the way."

Ron laughed. "Learned from the best." He watched the snow fall from the ceiling for a bit. "You know, it was my idea to rescue you. I had to talk Harry into it."

"Oh, really?" She was intrigued. Hermione hadn't heard this version of the story before.

"Yeah." He shook his head with great exaggeration. "It was me who remembered you wouldn't hear the message. Harry was all like, 'Oh, all right.' All grumpy-like like that. Then he said, "But Percy'd better not see us." Ron could barely keep a straight face.

Hermione nodded as though filled with great wisdom. "That sounds just like Harry. So, the truth finally comes out, after all this time." She couldn't help but grin.

"It does, how could you _ever_ think it was the other way around?" Ron tsked for emphasis.

"Well, you know me, always have my facts messed up."

"Well… you said it, Hermione, not me."

She gave him a light punch on the arm.

"Ow! Hermione, I need that!"

"For what? You never do your homework, so you don't need it to write with."

"Oh, you just have all the answers, don't you?"

"He admitted it!! Everyone! Everyone, stop the presses!"

"Shh! Hermione, you're disturbing the other dancers," he teased.

"So, the truth comes out again. I have all the answers."

"I think a lot of truths are coming out tonight."

Hermione pondered that for a moment.

"You know, Ron, you have your good points, too."

Ron looked surprised, but very pleased. "Thank you, Hermione. That means a lot, coming from you."

"That wasn't meant to be taken sarcastically."

"It wasn't. It's just that a compliment from you like that means a lot, because you're a great person, Hermione. You've got the good attributes of every House..." Ron shook his head and paused, looking to the ceiling again. He smiled down at her. "I don't know how the Sorting Hat decided on Gryffindor, but I'm glad it did."

Hermione blushed very deeply. It wasn't everyday that she was paid such a wonderful compliment. "Thank you."

They danced in silence for a bit. The song was starting to wind down, and Hermione was sad, because for once she wasn't at odds with Ron. It was very nice.

Ron swung Hermione around as the song ended.

"You know, Hermione. You look beautiful tonight. I just thought I should tell you I thought so."

Hermione smiled. "Well, you have my heart, now, Ronald Arthur Weasley. What are you going to do with it?"

Ron smiled, too. "I mean it, Hermione. "

"Yeah, me and Eloise Midgen."

"You know, she doesn't look half bad tonight, either." Hermione gave him another smack on the arm. "But, I meant what I said. You glow tonight, Hermione."

She leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the dance."

"Anytime. If you need to be saved again, just give me a wave."

"Okay. Thanks, Ron."

And before she knew it, he was dancing with another girl.

She walked over to grab her wrap. She needed to get fresh air before 'Blond-zilla' (just thinking the name made her laugh) came to claim his date again.

There was one more girl Harry wanted to be certain to talk with tonight, and he was wondering if she even came. He knew she was very shy, but he hoped she was here with somebody. She was, much to his relief. 

Mandy Brocklehurst was sitting with a group of friends not too far from Neville and Ginny. As Harry walked up the group of girls, as shy as she was, quieted. They all kind of looked at him in awe. Girls certainly were strange sometimes, Harry thought.

"Good evening, Ladies. Mandy, I was wondering if I could have this dance."

Mandy Brocklehurst turned to look behind her, as if Harry were talking to someone else. Harry held his hand out to her, and realizing that he meant her, she stood and went very white. She took his hand as he led her out to the dance floor.

"So, how are you enjoying the dance so far, Mandy?"

"Very much, thank you. The Hall is beautiful."

"It is. It always amazes me how they top it year after year."

Mandy just smiled. They danced quietly for a bit, and Harry noticed her subtle prettiness. She had wavy brown hair, and deep blue eyes as big as saucers. Harry was surprised that more boys weren't asking her to dance. He supposed her quietness scared them off. And, she was extremely intelligent, too, that Harry knew. Sometimes boys were intimidated by intelligence, if they didn't know how to deal with it. She was one of the top ten students in their class, second to Hermione. Harry was somewhere in the top ten, too, and it surprised him. He supposed his DADA scores and good O.W.L.s put him up there. 

"So, you've recovered from your fall, Harry?" Mandy asked quietly, almost afraid of her own voice.

Harry smiled at her. "Yes. Madam Pomfrey wants me to quit Quidditch, for health reasons, she tells me, but I've recovered."

"We couldn't have you quit Quidditch. But if you did, the games might be a little longer."

Harry laughed at that. She was very charming. 

"I meant to come up and see you, but it didn't happen. I guess I got really involved with my studies. The N.E.W.T.s are coming, and sometimes I forget not to study."

Harry smiled. She was the Ravenclaw equivalent of Hermione in that respect.

"I understand, I have friends who are the same way." Harry caught sight of Hermione, who was going outside. "Don't worry about it, though. I was pretty black and blue there for a while. No one wants to see that."

Mandy smiled. "Yes, Hermione is very dedicated, isn't she? I don't know how she manages Head Girl and her studies at the same time."

Harry's only response to that was to look after Hermione as she walked out the door into the snow. Mandy watched his eyes knowingly.

Harry suddenly remembered what his purpose was, even though he would have enjoyed dancing the rest of the night with her.

"It was you, wasn't it, Mandy? You kept me from rolling of the bleachers to the ground?" Harry peered into her eyes.

Mandy turned away shyly. "Yes. I guess it was pretty lucky that I wasn't studying that morning."

Harry smiled. "Yes, it was, Mandy. Thank you. I'm sorry that I hadn't gotten around to it now, but thank you very much. You saved my life."

Mandy shook her head. "No, Draco Malfoy kept you from dying, and perhaps Madam Pomfrey kept you from dying of shock. I was just in the right place at the right time. You should be thanking them, Harry."

"Be that as it may, Malfoy has his own reasons for doing good things." Harry remembered the scene in the hospital wing only weeks ago" '_the only reason I let you live was to give someone else the chance to let you die.' _"And, it is Madam Pomfrey's job. You though, Mandy, saved my life. And, because of that, I owe you a life debt."

"Oh, no, Harry. Please don't read that into it. It could have been anybody." Mandy looked very uncomfortable.

"But, it was you, and I wish there was a better way to thank you. Please, feel free to call on me if I can ever be of assistance."

Mandy thought of everything Harry would most likely be called to do and, she figured that was enough life debt for the entire world over. 

"Okay, Harry. I will."

Harry smiled and thanked her in the like.

They continued to dance, but Harry's thoughts strayed to Hermione. She was outside, and it was cold. He wondered why she was out there alone, as Fletchley was still inside. _Someone should go check on her, _Harry thought.

At just that moment, a satisfied Ron was walking by.

"Oy, Ron," Harry called. Mandy looked a bit surprised. "Excuse me for just a moment, please, Mandy."

"Of course."

Harry pulled Ron to the side.

"Mate, do me a favor and finish this dance with Mandy. I have to go."

"Something wrong?" Ron started to look worried.

"No, no. I just have to check up on something." Overhead, the tower struck ten thirty. "So, you will then?"

Ron took a look over Harry's shoulder and saw Mandy standing there. She looked kind of lost. "What's her name again?"

"Mandy Brocklehurst. She's from Ravenclaw."

"Oh, she's the girl who--"

"Yes, yes. Just do it, will you?"

Ron gave Harry a huge grin. "Check up on something? Really…"

"Ron."

"Don't bite my head off, mate."

Harry and Ron walked back to Mandy.

"Mandy, I'm sorry, I have to leave, but would it be alright if Ron, you know Ron Weasley, took my place?"

She smiled again, knowing that look in his eyes. "That's fine, Harry. Thank you for the dance."

And Harry left to go find Hermione.

Ron held his hands out to Mandy.

"Shall we dance?"

"You really don't have to, you can go on with whatever you were doing."

Ron grinned down at her. "Truly, Miss Brocklehurst, it is my pleasure."

And they danced the rest of the night together. Years later, Mandy would thank Harry for fulfilling his life debt within minutes of promising it.

Harry stepped outside to find a perfect world of white. There was partial cloud cover, but the full moon was visible. It lit up everything, making it glow. Harry suddenly found himself thinking of Professor Lupin, hoping he had access to the Wolfsbane potion. Fat snowflakes drifted around, and one fell on his nose. Harry walked the path leading to the rose garden, where he and Ron had heard Hagrid's love confessions years before. 

Some things about Hogwarts just amazed him. The sidewalks and benches had been bewitched to remain ice and snow-free. Evergreens were just frosted in snow, and Harry thought that perhaps real fairies were lighting them up.

Harry walked with a purpose as he searched for Hermione. The problem was that there were so many places for one person to be. There were rose bushes and statues everywhere.

Then he saw her. He first intended to get her back inside, as she was so thin that the cold weather might make her sick, but he was awed just looking at her. She was walking toward him, though she didn't see him, and her head was down. Whether it was the moon or not, she looked absolutely radiant. Snow floated around her and framed her. It took his breath away.

Hermione looked up and smiled at him. Harry thought she looked kind of sad. He remembered himself and walked resolutely over to her.

"Hermione, are you nuts? You'll freeze with just that on!" Harry pointed to her silk wrap.

"Harry, isn't it beautiful out here? I love the snow in the moonlight."

"It is, 'Mione, but that isn't a reason to get sick. Here." Harry took off his over robe and offered it to her.

"But, Harry, then you'll be cold." Hermione pushed it away.

"Take it, 'Mione. We can't have you sick."

"What if you get sick?"

"I won't."

"But---"

"Hermione…"

Hermione relented, and he helped her into his robe. Harry lifted her hair off her back, and he had been right. It was so soft; it fell like silken strands between his fingers. He straightened the rose in her hair that he gave her.

Hermione smiled as she fitted the coat around her. It was much too large and it dragged a little behind her, but it was warm, and it was Harry's, so she wasn't going to complain.

They walked around a bit, just enjoying each other's company. Hermione watched the grounds, and how perfect everything was, and Harry watched her, and how perfect he thought her to be.

"So, how is it going with Fletchley? Is he treating you right?" Harry tried to hide the threat in his voice.

Hermione smiled knowingly as she led them to a bench. "Yes, I just wanted to get away from it all. It is much quieter out here."

Harry nodded his head as they sat down. They sat listening to the orchestra music that drifted outside.

Hermione had all kinds of questions floating through her mind. It was nice that Harry didn't really want to talk, because she didn't know she would say. Why was she always at a loss for words when he was around? Why did he make her feel so crazy? Why did he have to smell so good? Why was he always so nice? So thoughtful? Why was he perfect? Why was he shy? How come everything she had ever hoped for was sitting right next to her? How come she didn't deserve it? She wanted to pack him away, for years, if necessary, to prevent losing him. Why was she destined to love someone, and she knew she loved him, she could weep for joy of love just by being in the same room with him, why was she destined to this life? She was so scared of losing him that she was afraid to let him out of her sight. What if he didn't wake up tomorrow? The thought was enough to make her go insane. She would study magic until she was old, tired and grey if it meant saving him for just five more minutes. She honestly didn't think she could live without him; she loved him so much. And again, why did he smell so good? He made her light headed.

Though Harry did want to know what was bothering his 'Mione, he had thoughts of his own to keep in check. This evening had almost been too much for him to handle. Dancing so close to her, feeling her sweat, being so close to her and not being able to show the whole school, the whole universe just what he felt for her was maddening. He wanted to taste the salt of her skin and feel her tiny hands in his hair. Why was he cursed so? His life would be a million times easier if he did not have the burden of Hermione Granger by his side. He knew what he was going to have to do, he knew he was going to have to sacrifice, perhaps even the greatest sacrifice of all. But there were times, when she was trying to figure out an Arithmancy word problem, or helping Ron with his Astronomy, and she had this look about her that made Harry want to forget all he was born to do. He wanted to be selfish and just leave with her. He didn't want to live without ever knowing what it was like to have her tell him she loved him. He could just imagine it, sometimes, in his daydreams. 

On top of that, he was scared for his life, and the responsibility of involving people like Ron and Hermione in it. What if they ended up dying for something he was fighting for? That wasn't their sacrifice, and that wasn't their destiny. And, then sometimes in the deepest throes of the night, when he'd just woken up from another nightmare, where he wondered what he would do if he failed and survived? How could he face anyone again? How could he face Hermione? He had been very lucky thus far; he knew it. (Five encounters with the Dark Lord and counting. During Sixth Year, there had been a small skirmish outside of Hogsmeade. Voldemort was just taunting him, he knew.) Sometimes his hatred for Voldemort shook his whole body, the power of his rage was upsetting.

Hermione put her hand in Harry's, threading her fingers between his. Harry stared at their hands in wonder. How could it be that all his worries were soothed with one touch?

Hermione sighed as she put her hand in his. Something told her at that moment that he needed to be reassured, and that was the only way she knew how. Sometimes she could cry at how much he carried on his shoulders.

"Harry, how are we ever going to get through this?"

It was a question that really didn't require an answer, since no one knew. It gave Harry hope that he wasn't alone, but the last thing he wanted to do was involve Hermione and Ron in the fight for their lives. 

"One step at a time, I guess. With faith. And lots of hope."

"Are you scared, Harry?" Hermione was terrified to ask that of herself.

Harry thought about telling her everything that was going through his head. He considered telling her, but it would give her more to worry about than necessary…but the practical side told him that she'd probably guessed it all anyway, she knew him so well. She anticipated so much about him it made him wonder how well he knew himself.

"Probably not as much as I should be. But, I am a little."

The orchestra played a slow ballad.

"Hermione, you danced very well tonight. Thanks for putting up with me."

"It was my pleasure, Harry," she said softly. _Oh, Merlin. Do not cry, Hermione Granger. Don't even think about it._ _Do not cry._ She had to change the subject or she was going to go mad.

"Harry, let's go inside, you're hands are freezing. And, you really shouldn't slouch like that, it's bad for your--"

"Hermione, will you dance with me?" He stood up and held his hands out to her.

"Wha--oh," she remembered the promise she had made to him by the lake--that she would save one dance for him. It had only been a month ago, but they had both changed so much since then. "Yes." He led her to an open spot on the path.

Harry held his arms in the proper position. She slipped her right hand and into his left, and placed her left hand lightly on his shoulder. Harry slipped his right hand behind her hair to keep it warm.

They danced in slow circles. Hermione didn't think she could look him in the face, so she watched his chest rise and fall, noting how calm he always was, whereas she was ready to have an emotional breakdown. Somehow she felt that this evening could be her last with Harry.

Harry watched nothing in particular while they danced. He didn't want to make Hermione uncomfortable by watching her. He just meditated on how nice it was to be out of the Great Hall, away from all those eyes, and with the one person he could give everything for.

They could have danced forever like that, not paying attention to the type of music. They just danced and danced, slowly coming together until they just stopped.

Hermione laid her head on his chest, and placed her right hand on his shoulder. Harry responded in the like by putting both arms around her pulling her closer. He couldn't put his head on hers as he would of liked, so he rested his cheek against her twists.

Hermione snuggled closer, as if to envelop herself in his smell. She was astounded that even though they hadn't really seen the sun for days, that he could still smell like sunlight. And though there had been a foot or so of snow on the ground since the beginning of December, he could still smell like grass. He smelled like wind and adventure. And almonds. She didn't know where that came in, but she loved it.

She tried very hard not to overanalyze anything. She was only close to him to keep him warm, of course--though a part of her knew that she could never be close enough to him. He was only holding her because he felt she needed comforting. She had shown fear earlier, and he had to reassure her. It wasn't because he liked how she felt. He was out here only to make sure she was all right, not because he preferred her company to the likes of Susan Bones. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

Harry held her because he didn't know how else to comfort himself. How could it be that he learned to love someone so fantastic, and that he might never be able to tell her? He wasn't allowed to love without risking the one he loved, so he would never tell her. He held her tighter and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her pure sweetness. She smelled like wildflowers. 

He tried to think of nothing as he held her, but it was as if he was saying goodbye to something he never had. He hated himself for wanting to cry.

They may have stood there forever, perhaps frozen in time, except for the proof that the moon was moving slowly across the sky. 

As Harry's pocket watch ticked it's way to the eleventh hour, and the tower got ready to toll, Hermione pulled back and looked at him. For a moment, there was a profound understanding between the two. Hermione felt secure in his arms, she felt so safe. She felt so loved. Harry knew he couldn't describe the type of beauty he had in his arms, he just knew she left him breathless.

And as the tower struck its first toll, Hermione gathered all her Gryffindor courage and risked it all: friendship, trust, love. She kissed him.

__

Dong.

Harry closed his eyes, though in full shock. Yes, he had wanted to do this, but he never pictured it actually _happening._

Hermione surprised herself as her lips hit his. Certainly she'd imagined, heck, she'd imagined a whole lot…

__

Dong.

Oh, sweet innocence, thy name is Hermione, Harry thought. Her lips were more delicious than he'd imagined them to be.

__

Do I have this right? Am I kissing Harry Potter? I am kissing _Harry Potter. Oh god._ Hermione's knees started to go weak.

__

Dong.

Harry got a little braver as he pulled her hips closer to him. She moved with him, and he was encouraged.

__

Hermione, go for it, you know you want to. She reached up and ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. Harry gasped.

__

Dong.

I am kissing Hermione Granger. I am kissing _Hermione Granger. I am the luckiest--oh god._

His lips weren't enough. She licked them.

__

Dong.

Oh, sweet lord. He granted her full entry and took extensive leisure with his.

__

I have never felt better in my entire life. 

__

Dong.

She tastes like pumpkin pie. Harry slipped his hands inside the robe she was wearing, surprised to find the back on her dress went down lower than he originally thought.

Hermione shivered as Harry's hands played on her back.

__

Dong.

Harry pulled her closer, _she must be cold._ He kissed her to sate his hunger.

Hermione kissed him with pure selfishness. She was greedy as she bruised his lips, pushing onto them harder.

__

Dong.

Harry pulled his hands up to play in her hair.

Hermione gasped as she pulled him closer.

__

Dong.

Harry slowed his passion down so as not to get carried away. He kissed her slowly and methodically.

Hermione stole half a breath as she slowed down. _Oh god, I am kissing Harry. What are you doing? Granger, what are you _doing?

__

Dong.

It was perfect, though he felt sad. _Potter, what are you doing?_

Hermione again wanted to cry. She'd never felt more alive, but she felt ready to die.

__

Dong.

And they pulled apart almost as quickly as they came together.

Harry looked at Hermione with so much fear that she was scared, too.

__

Please don't apologize. Please don't call it a mistake. We'll make it work, please. Don't regret this.

Ohmygod, what have I done? What I have I done? What have I done? 

"'Mione, I--"

"Ohmygod, Harry, I am so sorry." And she ran away. Harry was so shocked that he didn't follow her.

"'Mione, I love you." 

__

What have I done? Harry sat down on the bench and cried. 

Somewhere in the rosebushes, a fat gray rat squealed. He had exciting news for his Master, and he would certainly be pleased. He trudged his fat body through the snow, because he wouldn't dare show his face on Hogwarts grounds without protection, and anyone who knew him knew he was worthless when it came to defending himself.

Hermione found Gryffindor House by means of a miracle, because she couldn't see for her tears. When she got to the Fat Lady, she demanded: Open! And the portrait swung for her. Hermione left Harry's robe on the chair he always sat in, went to her dormitory and cried, for she had no comfort. _What have I done?_

Far away in a quiet cabin, the Dark Lord Voldemort sat in front of the fireplace. He awaited news from his servant. What he had to say would determine how Voldemort moved next. Though always chilled in his bones, he felt warm at the thoughts of weeks to come.

"It is all planned out, Nagini," he said in Parseltongue to the snake before the fire. "Soon, we will have what is due to us." He rested in silence as a storm raged outside.

__

"Monsieur?"

Voldemort grunted in response.

"My Lord, the spy approaches."

__

"Apportez-le moi." And Etienne Lestrange brought what once was Peter Pettigrew before Lord Voldemort. Wormtail bowed, quaking before him.

"My Lord, I have news which I think you will find pleasing."

Voldemort cracked his knuckles to intimidate him.

"My-my Lord… The P-Potter boy, he--"

"I am waiting, Wormtail."

"My Lord, the situation is-is in our favor. It is as we thought." Wormtail looked up, hoping to have pleased him.

"Very well." Voldemort picked up a book from the side table, showing Wormtail that he had lost interest.

Wormtail was disappointed from lack of praise, but he did not linger.

When he had left the room, Voldemort replaced the book and called Lestrange into the room.

"Lestrange, we may continue as planned. It seems that history does repeat itself." He turned to Nagini, who had coiled herself about his feet. "But, we learn from our mistakes, don't we, Nagini?" Voldemort smiled coldly. 

"I trust you to carry this out as I have desired. Be gone from me."

__

"Merci, Monsieur." And Lestrange went to execute his orders.

__

History repeats itself, and you, Harry Potter, will not live to see your eighteenth birthday.

Harry's glasses fell to the stone walkway as he was wracked with pain from his scar. He didn't know if it was from Voldemort, or if it was the result of his own anguish. He sat there for a long time until Auror Dinwiddie came out and told him to go inside.

A/N II: This will be my last update for a while… I am preparing to transfer to a different college, and I need to decide where I am going. Therefore, I cannot be writing. As you saw in my disclaimer: _No profit is being made from this fiction. _So, that means that I have to find a way to make a living, and fanfic ain't it. So, please just keep that in mind.

Also: Not begging for reviews, but this is how I feel: I believe that if people take the time, sweat and effort to post something, it is the reader's responsibility to review. Quid pro quo. *Psst* It's the periwinkle button.


	19. Ch 18, The Merchant of Hogwarts

A/N:  Well, after a shorter interval than was between Book Four and Book Five, I give you the next installment.  Special thanks to enoimreH, my beta.  You do wonders for me, and help keep my head up.  Thanks.  I really appreciate all of you who have stuck with me this long.  Your reviews are marvelous, and they make me feel loved.  I hope you like this chapter.  (FF.N will call it 19, I call it 18.)  
            As to how I am going to handle the addition of Book V, I don't know.  I don't know if I accept OotP yet.  Perhaps someone abducted JKR and put her in a trunk and published HPV instead.  (You have to keep hope.)  As far as that goes, I think the things that are wrong thus far don't matter, and I will try to be current without screwing up what I started with to finish.  

Disclaimer:  Harry Potter and Associates are property of JK Rowling and her associates. No profit is being made from this fiction. God Bless JK, mommy and daddy, little David Gordon (JK's new baby), Jessica (JK's older baby) and the HMS Pumpkin Pie.    I don't think this has HPV spoilers.  If so, I'm sorry, but what the Merlin are you doing reading this rubbish when you could be reading the best-selling book of all time, next to the Bible?

Chapter Eighteen:  The Merchant of Hogwarts

…

…

_Awkward_ kind of described the feeling shared between Harry and Hermione during the weeks following Christmas night.  _Uncomfortable_ was stretching it a little… but it wasn't going overboard.  In truth, It, being that fantastic kiss that neither of them would ever admit to experiencing, had faded with the December cold.

And it was never mentioned.  It was like it never happened--except that it did.  It's denied existence changed everything about the Trio--and yet it's existence was not sensed by the ever-dense Ron.

So, as the end of the fall term blended into the start of the winter term, Harry, Hermione and Ron pursued their studies with a never-ending energy.  For Ron, it was because of the addition of one Mandy Brocklehurst to their library study sessions.  For Harry, it was because it aided in ignoring Hermione, and her smell, and her sighs, and--well, just _her._  For Hermione, it was the mixed desire to break all Hogwarts records of the N.E.W.T.s, and to keep her mind off of Harry, her worries about him, what he thought of her for running off that night--_what was she _thinking?--him rubbing his scar--_was it bothering him, what could she do to help him?_, and the ever-present reminder of his lips.  He bit his lower lip when he concentrated, and it seemed to Hermione that that was occurring a lot lately.

As it was, they were in the library at that very moment.  Hermione kept a large book propped in front of her face, unable to see Harry, and barely unable to ignore Ron, who was sitting next to her and mooning at Mandy.  Mandy was, of course, oblivious to it.  That girl took her studies very seriously.  Ron learned quickly that if he wanted to spend time with her, he had to do it while she studied, because that was practically all she did.  Hermione could sense that Harry was listless--she was too.  

The library had become a sort of prison for her.  It was there that she could ignore all that had changed that night.  If she was in the common room, she remembered the nights she let him sleep in her lap.  If she was on the grounds with him for Care of Magical Creatures, or Herbology, or to cut through the courtyard, she'd remember ruining everything by kissing him out in the gardens.  Going on rounds was the worst, because conversation had become forced.  After the first few attempts at it, they formed an unspoken truce to not say anything at all.  Rounds, which at one time was the highlight of her day, became something that they postponed, rushed through, and barely discussed at all.  

And Hermione hated it.

She hated this--this forced façade of congeniality, Ron's ignorance (though she'd never tell him) and her own cowardly self.  If she'd summon the guts confront Harry about how she was feeling, maybe they could put all the discomfort behind them.  As it was, she sometimes wondered why the Sorting Hat had placed her in Gryffindor.

She just knew that Harry was biting his lip on the other side of her humongous book.  She knew the look on his face without seeing it--that deep concentrated look, with his glasses slipping down his nose (a finger absentmindedly pushing them back up), and that look in his eye when he was trying to figure something out.  He'd stopped asking her for help with his studies, too, she'd noticed.  Not knowing whether to be pleased that he did more on his own, or to feel empty for the lack of attention, she just felt kind of put out.  

She knew he was biting that lip, and she couldn't take it anymore.  She stood and closed her book with a little more force than intended.  Harry jumped, startled flush crossing his cheeks, Mandy ignoring it, and Ron yelping: _Crimeny, Hermione!  Take it easy!_

"Forgot to feed Crookshanks, and you know how he gets.  I'll go do it now," she offered as a lame excuse, and purposely walked out of the library, but not without receiving a stern look from Madam Pince.

Harry sighed in great relief as she walked out of the library.  He didn't know how much longer he could sit there with her rereading the same sentence over and over again.  He hated how he made her uncomfortable.  Why, _why_ did he have to scare her off with that kiss?  It must have been something he did, but he didn't understand, because while they were actually at it, he thought the feelings of enjoyment were mutual.  The situation was wrong, _he_ was wrong.  Where'd he get off kissing his best friend like she was some kind of "scarlet woman" as Mrs. Weasley so often put it?  Now was not the time to be trifling with what was certain--such as his friendship with Hermione.  Or, at least he _thought_ he was still friends with her.  Unfortunately for Harry, he didn't have the guts to ask her about it.  

He assumed that because she still studied and took meals with him that she wasn't harboring ill feelings--but it was still odd to have so little dialogue throughout the week with her.

What hurt most, besides the knowledge that he brought it all upon himself, was that she didn't seem to care that they had practically stopped talking.  Harry was certain Ron had written it off as "Dark Lord Tensions" as Harry's nightmares were becoming more and more evident to him. More than twice this past week, Ron had been awoken by Harry, calling for help, screaming in pain, crying for his friends.  Ron had tried to wake Harry up by shaking him, and all that he accomplished was a black eye and bloody nose from Harry, a result of Harry blindly lashing out.  

Ron had wanted to get Hermione that night, to help Harry calm down, but Harry would hear none of it.  _There's no point in all of us losing sleep.  It was just a dream, Ron._  Harry talked him out of it when he convinced him that he could go back to sleep and be just fine.  Ron watched over him for a good ten minutes while Harry pretended to sleep.  After Ron had gone back to bed, Harry crept out of the dormitory and snuck to the Pitch to fly a few laps and clear his head.  

Hermione didn't go to feed Crookshanks at all.  Of course she'd remember to feed her cat.  She instead went to the Prefect office to get some work done so she would finish early tonight.  She didn't wish for the forced discomfort while with Harry--how strange that a month ago, she couldn't get enough of him.  She also happened to have a study session with Justin at later that night.

Hmm.  Justin.  What an interesting topic to discuss.  The lie--well, sort of lie--that she told him about why she missed half the Ball served its purpose.  Justin didn't see her after Ron cut in on their dance, and of course it was quite possible that she could have gotten food poisoning from the mutton they had for Christmas dinner, though Justin felt fine and no one else got sick.  Justin was just, well, there.  He seemed to become Hermione's third male friend, further estranging her from the female population at Hogwarts.  No one could understand her 'charm' so it seemed, that Justin, Ron _and_ Harry would want her attentions.  She wasn't even that pretty, in their opinion.

No, Justin just kind of found himself a place in Hermione's life, and there wasn't much that she felt or even wanted to do about it.  Justin came as a welcome change to the tension she felt, even if he could be kind of dull. 

Hermione slipped into the Prefect office, opened the window a bit because it was stuffy, and sat down to do some paperwork.  

~*^*~

January blended into February with little notice from the students.  Harry was on edge, it seemed, all the time now, though he had no idea why.  At every noise he jumped, and he felt that he should be doing _something_, though he had no idea what.  He felt useless as he studied for his N.E.W.T.s, when he felt he could be better utilized, oh, he didn't know…fighting dragons or something.  He knew something was up, but there wasn't Owl Post to inform him, and of course, the _Prophet_ wasn't delivered anymore.  Professor McGonagall did little to help his restlessness.  _"If there was anything you could do, Potter, certainly we'd tell you."_ So.  There _was_ something going on.  He knew that, as surely as he knew that pigs flew when under magical influence.  The Aurors told him to mind his own business in no uncertain terms.  _"Shove off, Potter, and quit bothering us." _ Stockton had told him the other day.  So, yes, maybe his questions had become annoying, but he had to know!  He didn't feel in immediate danger, nor did he feel so for his friends.  

His dreams told him as much.  They had been frequented with battle scenes, flashes brighter than sunlight on an ice-glassed field, moaning and blood.  He was annoyed that he didn't know if they were dreams from the past, the future, or figments of his imagination.  He'd face the Whomping Willow before asking Trelawney about them.  There were a lot of things he wanted answers to, but no one to talk to about them.  In reality, there were always people around to talk to--he was never by himself.

But in his dreams, he always felt alone.

~*^*~

That day seemed odd to Hermione.  The teachers seemed to be irritable, even Professor Binns had something to say to Seamus as he drooled on his book in his sleep during class.  Professor McGonagall was downright agitated during Transfiguration.  She said nothing to Ron when his books still had the gnashing teeth of a tiger, and that was McGonagall out of form.  She kept looking out the windows, nervously twitching her wand, sending gold sparks over the students.

The last straw for Hermione was at lunch, when it seemed the students had caught the instructors' sense of anticipation.  There was low whispering and talking behind hands.  She had finally gotten her fill of the lack of conversation in the room and left to gather her books for the afternoon classes.  When she exited the dining hall, she got the surprise of her life, as the entry way was filled with over fifty injured witches and wizards, slowly making their way into the castle.

"Water."

A man grabbed her robes, and Hermione was burdened with his weight.  "Help."

Hermione was speechless as so many were there, so in need of immediate help, that she could say nothing.  She thought quickly.  The last thing these people needed was to have the entire school out there gawking at them.  _Do something, Hermione!_

She pried the man's fingers off her jumper.  "Hold on, please don't enter the Great Hall.  I'll be right back."

Hermione's heart was pumping with adrenaline as she 'calmly' made her way to the Head Table.  Along the way, she stopped by Harry and told him to keep people from leaving the Great Hall.

_"What?" _he whispered forcefully.

"Harry, please."

Harry was incredibly alarmed by the tone in her voice.  He wasn't sure what to do, so he walked down to the end of the Gryffindor Table and chatted with some third years, trying to keep his face neutral and distract students from leaving for lunch. 

Hermione tried to keep from running to Professor McGonagall, trying not to rush but yet remembering the bleeding people beyond those doors.  She could feel all the eyes of Hogwarts on her.

"Professor," Hermione started quietly, but could not finish.

"Would you looky-looky outside?  The party's dead in heeeerre, but it's even MORE dead out theeeerrrrre!!!!"  Peeves sing-songed to no one in particular as he floated above the students.  Students burst out in exclamation as Peeves imitated people dying, and to Hermione's horror, the man begging for water.

"SILENCE, PEEVES!"  McGonagall stood to her full height and straightened her hat.  Peeves immediately shut up, but it did nothing for the rousing of the students.  They had started to stand, a few headed for the doors to see if there was any truth to Peeves' outburst.  Harry had his hands full telling people to sit down, adopting the Percy Weasley-like manner of being Head Boy.

"Quickly, Miss Granger."

"Professor, there are injured witches and wizards in the foyer.  I don't know how they got there," Hermione gushed quietly.

The color drained from the professor's face.  "How many?"

"I don't know.  Maybe fifty.  I think they're still coming in, though I don't know how they got here."

Hermione was shocked as she heard a whispered curse come from McGonagall.  "Poppy, Severus, Charlie, Roni, come with me.  You too, Miss Granger.  The rest of you, keep the students in here."  Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and addressed the students.  "As of this moment, your afternoon classes are postponed."  She held up her hands to silence the predictable cries of happiness.  "You are to remain in the Great Hall until further notice.  Any kind of disobedience will be punished, you may be sure of that.  Prefects, I am certain you will assist the professors with keeping order."  Professor McGonagall hurried down the center aisle, black robes billowing out behind her.  Hermione tried to keep pace with the proxy headmistress as they headed toward the doors.  

Harry stood aside to let them pass, prepared to guard the door from prying eyes, and was surprised, a moment after the doors had shut behind him that Charlie Weasley reopened one slightly and pulled him through.  

The sight shocked him.  Men and women, it seemed thousands of them, crammed into what he once thought was a huge foyer, bleeding and afflicted from some medical maladies he only heard about as urban legends from the Weasley twins, were everywhere.  Harry was at once overwhelmed by the stench of blood and burned skin.

"Mr. Potter.  Mr. Potter!"  McGonagall snapped her fingers in front of his face.  Snape sneered reproachfully.  "Pay attention, we must move quickly.  Potter, run and get Stockton and Dinwiddie.  Tell them they've come to Hogwarts, they'll come."  Harry stood dumbly for a moment, soaking in all he saw.

"Harry, go!"  Charlie gave him a shove, and Harry fought for his balance, trying not to step on any wounded.  He quickly weaved through the masses of people and took the grand staircase three at a time, hoping none of the staircases would give him trouble.  Flashbacks from his dreams filled his mind as he robotically took the shortest path to the Auror office.  Hadn't he felt that something like this was going to happen?  He somehow knew this was coming, well, maybe not _this_ exactly, but oh my god.  His legs couldn't carry him fast enough.  

Harry turned the corner and ran straight into Stockton's solid form.  It looked as though he was headed off rounds; he looked exhausted.

"Potter, what on earth?  You should be at lunch," he practically barked.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry paused for a quick breath.  "McGonagall says to tell you they've come to Hogwarts.  There are people all over the foyer, sir, they're--"

"No time for that now.  Rhianon's in the dungeons.  Go get her."  

Before Harry could protest or even ask the significance of those injured people being 'they,' Stockton was gone.  Harry took off in the opposite direction headed for the dungeons for the first time in his life as fast as he could.

~*^*~

The next twelve hours were hell for Hermione--that was putting it quite simply.  Without explanation why, she blindly assisted wounded soldiers (she figured that much out) to the nearly bursting-at-the-seams hospital wing.  She fetched glasses of water, wiped blood out of eyes, held hands of the dying and assisted Madam Pomfrey with anything and everything.  Finally around midnight, she was told to take a break.  She wearily walked toward the north side of the room, where those who had passed away lay covered with sheets.  At least it was quieter there.  She was afraid that if she sat down, she wouldn't be able to get up again.  She shook from deep inside, trembling at the sheer idea of what she'd been through that afternoon.  Before lunch, her biggest concerns were her Ancient Runes translations and her lack of conversation with Harry.  Now her biggest concern was if she'd ever be able to close her eyes without seeing those images imprinted on her eyelids for all of eternity.  Overcome with nausea and the realization of where she actually was (who would _choose_ to stand among corpses?), she ran to the nearest waste can and quietly vomited into it.  Due to the fact that she had barely eaten all day, this did not have the effect her body had wanted.  Hermione didn't know what to do, everything in her told her to run, run as far away as humanly possible, but how could she leave when there was so much she could be doing?  As far as she knew, only the faculty and two students even knew about this.  She had to stay and be useful.  How could she turn her back when she was needed?

"Looks like you could use this."

Hermione wiped her mouth on a towel and looked up to see Charlie Weasley handing her a glass of water.  She took it gratefully and swallowed it in a few gulps.

"Thanks, Charlie."  Hermione shook her head.  "I'm sorry, I meant Professor Weasley."

"Don't worry about it.  When I hear people call me that, I tend to turn around and look for someone older, anyway," he offered.  "I never imagined I would end up here."

They stood in silence as they watched Madam Pomfrey and the Aurors walk among the beds and transfigured cots (They'd run out a long time ago, so Professor McGonagall came up with an ideal solution of transfiguring chairs.  The only problem was there was no longer anywhere to sit.) monitoring the wounded.

"So, would it be okay if I heard the whole story now?  I'm not complaining about the work, but I am kind of confused as to what's going on.  Where did they all come from?"

Charlie sighed, and he looked about as old as Hermione had ever seen anyone.  She braced herself for the worst.

"You'd think they'd have all been transported to St. Mungo's, right?"  He laughed cynically.  "That's what I thought too, but there isn't a hospital anymore.  You know, you'd think You-Know-Who'd leave something for us to care for our own, but I guess not."  Hermione was alarmed by the amount of hatred shown on his usually jovial face.

"Charlie, I don't know what you're talking about.  We haven't had Owl Post or _The Prophet_ delivered here since at least September.  You mean to tell me there's not a hospital anymore?  Aren't there more hospitals?"

Charlie rubbed his eyebrows.  "I'd forgotten how cut off the school is from everything.  To explain you're second question:  No, there's only St. Mungo's.  The wizarding population has a special Floo Network for transporting those with ailments.  It runs kind of like the Muggle abimlances.  To answer your first question, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had sealed that Network, and now there is no safe way of transporting the injured, forcing them on places like Hogwarts, that have a sort of quasi-hospital staff, places that aren't prepared to handle disasters like this.  I bet he has control of the hospital as well, if he has control of the Network, he probably does."

Hermione soaked this in with sheer horror.  That meant that there must be hundreds of Death Eaters in Britain!  If they could take over St. Mungo's, which of course Hermione was assured that it was under top protection anyway, what couldn't they do?  Suddenly, she didn't feel safe anywhere, even at Hogwarts.

Still, something wasn't adding up.  "But, Charlie, where did they all come from?  I mean you don't end up with scores of people with third degree burns and splinchings and potions burns all at once!  What happened?"

Again, Charlie looked old. He opened his mouth to speak twice before actually accomplishing it.  His skin looked gray between his freckles.  

"Two days ago, a small skirmish broke out between what seemed to be a small group of Death Eaters and Wizarding Militia.  The Death Eaters had dropped in on the militia's routine training exercises, and all hell broke loose.  Eventually, it turned into a battle as each side called more people in to aid them.  I think it's still going on now."

A wizarding battle.  Hermione had read about them, but it seemed that none had occurred since the time of Grindlewald in the forties.  Even during the reign of You-Know-Who, it was more of surprise attacks and plunderings.  It was never an organized assault--not of great magnitude, anyway.  She racked her mind to see if she could recall where the militia trained.

Charlie seemed to be talking more to himself than to Hermione.  As if he read her mind, he answered her question.  "They were in Lladudno, Wales.  They sent us injured all the way from the west coast of Britain.  How they did it, I'll never know."

Lladudno.  That rang a faint bell.  Hermione was certain that she had heard of it before.  She thought for a moment.  Of course!  That was where You-Know-Who had attacked Muggles in the seventies.  She had plotted His attacks for McGonagall some months ago.  How strange the circumstances could seem.  Hermione was still finding things out about the wizarding world, it seemed that no amount of reading would ever put her on equal footing with people born into it.

_Well, Lladudno is so far away, we must be safe here.  Hogwarts is out of any pressing danger._  Hermione stood thinking nothing for a few seconds, which was odd for her.  _Wait a minute!  What about Apparating, Granger?  They could put themselves within miles of Hogwarts and just walk on!  What are we going to do?_

"Hermione, don't panic," Charlie told her before she could get too excited.  "The people who actually believe that the Dark Lord is back are putting up a strong resistance.  This battle has been going on for days, and we're still holding up.  What's more, is witches and wizards from other countries have actually come freely to help out with resistance.  I guarantee that people from Massachusetts are here, after the attack on SWI… I'd even venture to guess that the US has sent over a special ops group or two from the Department of Magical Defense.  Even though the Ministry pretends this doesn't exist doesn't mean that other governments aren't paying attention.  I treated the burns of a Frenchman and a man who spoke Greek today, so I think we're gonna have a lot of help with this.  I don't think that Ireland would stand by and let something happen so close to its own turf, either."

It would make sense that Charlie was treating burns.  Obviously he was the most experienced with that kind of injury, having been afflicted with them himself quite often while in Romania.  Professor Snape, then, was there for chemical burns due to potions.  Madam Pomfrey's presence didn't need to be explained.  Professor Veronica Vector, her Arithmancy teacher, seemed to have great expertise with what she did, but Hermione didn't know why she was here instead of, say, Professor Sprout or Madam Hooch, who would seem to have to be prepared in medical duties, due to their jobs at Hogwarts.

Hermione's curiosity always got the better of her.  "So, why is Professor Vector here, instead of, like, Madam Hooch?"

"Oh, she's been through this before.  She was a nurse during World War II.  Did you know she was a Muggle-born?  She studied in the States, fell in love with a Muggle who ended up getting sent to France with the Marines.  She followed him there, but he died, I think.  Somehow, she didn't make it home, either. Or maybe she didn't want to go where she was reminded of what wasn't the same."  Charlie shrugged it off without any thought.

Hermione watched one man, probably a few years out of his wizarding school, struggle to breathe even with the assistance of a bubble around his head.  It reminded her of the Bubble-Headed Charm, but was used like an iron lung.  Charlie didn't offer any more information, and at that moment, Hermione didn't think she could handle any more.

Professor McGonagall entered the hospital wing.  After the majority of the hectic work of treating the wounded had passed, she left to other affairs.  She spoke with Madam Pomfrey before heading over for Hermione and Charlie.

"Miss Granger, I'd like to thank you for the work you did today.  Thank you for coming to me as soon as you noticed something was amiss.  As it is, classes continued shortly after we moved the injured here.  You missed your classes today, and I must ask that you miss them tomorrow as well.  We expect this to continue for the next few days.  You'll be excused, of course, and I ask this of you because there is no one else.  Hogwarts must continue classes at all costs, that was Professor Dumbledore's most explicit instruction.  Therefore, I can only sacrifice a few staff members, and they'll have to rotate, as the students don't know about any of this.  Mr. Potter has been excused from class as well, but his duties are different than yours."

At the news of that day's dreadfulness being repeated, Hermione visibly paled. But, how could she turn her back when she was needed?  She squared her shoulders and accepted.  

"Good.  Go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some sleep.  Tomorrow we have a big day ahead of us.  Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Hermione echoed her well wishing and headed for the door.  

"Oh, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Don't mention this to any of the students.  We don't need a circus in here, with everyone trying to come and look.  For now, they've been told there was an explosion in the hospital wing, and it is now off-limits.  A make-shift hospital wing for the students is in the empty classroom off the Great Hall."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

Hermione hurried to the exit.  She'd have stayed until every person had convalesced, but she could tell tomorrow would be a long day, and so she wanted to get as much rest as possible.  As she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, she wondered what Harry had done all day.  She was sure that after finding out about the battle, he was very upset.  She dearly hoped that he hadn't taken it too badly.

"What a lovely dress you're wearing."

"Why, thank you, dear."  The Fat Lady replied.  

Ever since Seamus and Dean returned from Hogsmeade after Christmas Eve, she required that to be the password.  It seemed that they'd gotten a hold of some Ogden's Fire Whiskey, and been a little too crass to her.  Harry was supposed to be sweet-talking her into changing it.  So far, she hadn't budged.  

The portrait opened to reveal a desolate common room, with embers crackling in the hearth.  Hermione began gathering her books from the table where she left them when she heard Harry's tired voice on the other side of the portrait.

"What a lovely dress you're wearing."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite.  You know, I was wondering, Lucille," Harry began; Hermione didn't know the portrait was called Lucille.  She'd always assumed she was called 'The Fat Lady.'

"Yes, Young Potter?"

"I was wondering if you'd consider changing the password."

"We've been through this before, Mr. Potter.  I feel under-appreciated, and this seems to be the only way to make people like that Finnegan boy to realize how much they _should_ appreciate me," the Fat Lady finished with a huff.

"I realize your predicament, Lucille.  I was just hoping you'd let me talk to the Gryffindors about it, you see, because the Slytherins have gotten wind of what our password is like.  They've started harassing the first and second years about it, and it wasn't even one of them who made the comment about your dress being from a different era."

The Fat Lady was astonished.  Hermione found herself listening in just to see if Harry would finally work his magic.  It was hard for any woman in her right mind to refuse something to Harry Potter.

"You mean, they tease Gryffindors about it?"

"There was a first year crying about it at dinner today."

"Oh my.  Well, I'll certainly think about it."  She looked suspiciously at Harry.  "You're not just making that up, are you, Mr. Potter?"

"Lucille, the Head Boy is called to be honest.  Why would I lie about something like that?"

"I see your point."  She cleared her throat.  "You don't think my dress looks--looks dated, do you?"

"Of course not, Lucille.  How odd would it be for you to be in dress robes of this period when you were painted in the 1700's?  I think very odd, indeed."

"That is true, isn't it?"  Her pride sounded a little more healed.  "And you don't think I look old, either?"

"You had to be, what, twenty when the artist painted you?  Come on, Lucille!  Of course not!"

"Now you are lying, Mr. Potter, but I'll let it slide this time.  I'll think about your request, go on and have a good night."

"Thanks, you too."

Hermione quickened in gathering her things.  She really did need to get to bed, anyway.  She grabbed her last roll of parchment and headed for the stairs.  Harry had sat down on the couch in front of the fire.  Instantly, it burned into life.  Hermione felt like she should say something.

"Well, good night, Harry."

Harry did not turn to face her.  "'Night, 'Mione.  Sleep well."  He sounded about as distant as the stars in the sky.  

Harry wanted to ask her about her day, he knew she'd had stressful day if there ever was one, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.  Why should he start talking to her now, when he couldn't accomplish it for the past month and a half?  He missed her so much.

Hermione was up two steps and stopped when Harry called her ''Mione.'  There was something about the way he said her name that was like velvet and honey even when he was tired.  Suddenly she remembered that she didn't go on rounds that night.

"Oh, Harry, we didn't go on rounds.  I'm so sorr-"

"Don't worry about it.  I managed.  It's okay.  Go on and get some sleep."

His profile didn't move as he said it, and Hermione couldn't read his face in the fire glow.  She wanted to talk to him, but if they hadn't managed for six weeks, how would they now?

"'Night."

"'Night."

Hermione sank into bed to the soft snores of Lavender Brown, who undoubtedly was sleeping without a care in the world.  She smiled at the thought of how Harry finally managed to talk the Fat Lady into changing that ridiculous password.  It had been the gripe of Gryffindors for the past few weeks.  He never disappointed her, Harry Potter.

 She thought about him alone down there on the couch and despite her tiredness, barely slept at all.

~^*^~

Harry listened for the door to Hermione's room to shut and then he lay down on the rug, stretching before the warm fire.  He knew it was wrong of him to be sloughing off when he should be doing something, talking to someone, and helping out--whatever.  He was being selfish lying on the floor like that.  Wasn't it his lot in life to fight Death Eaters and ease the burdens of those fighting?  He'd come such a long way since he fought Voldemort at the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  Fifth Year, Harry managed to come away from Voldemort unscathed.  Well, unscathed wasn't exactly the word he should have used.  The point was--he came back alive.  Voldemort hadn't killed him yet, and he'd taken a lot of shots at him.  Harry may have only been seventeen, but he felt a little more prepared than perhaps some of those he helped transport to the hospital wing.

His job had been, after the initial injured made it to the hospital wing, was to continue the Aurors rounds.  So, basically, he went around Hogwarts grounds for twelve hours, making sure everything was in order.  He had had a brainstorm and retrieved his Marauders Map from his room and used it to tell when a new person approached the castle.  That way he could help them along as fast as possible, hoping the students wouldn't come out of their classrooms.  They were supposed to be on a sort of lockdown, much like they were when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened five years ago.  There was no telling though, so the map came quite in handy.

Harry had been asked earlier that day to take leave of his classes and keep an eye on the corridors.  What he _felt_ like they asked him was to fill the shoes of two qualified Aurors when everything showed that the sky could fall at any moment.  He felt prepared to go into battle with those dying in the fields outside Lladudno, but he felt unprepared to perform the duties of an Auror.   His first question was why another Auror couldn't be brought in.  The answer was surprising to him that there weren't any.  He suspected the Ministry would gladly free one up to carry on the duties at Hogwarts, especially because he suspected that Fudge was still pretending that Voldemort was dead.  

Stockton had corrected that misconception almost as soon as it was out of Harry's mouth.  _The Aurors, who haven't had much to do the past fifteen years or so, thanks to you, have jumped at the challenge of a wizard battle.  There was a mistake in their contracts, and they all went on holiday at the same time.  Looks like we're on our own, Potter._

There sure were some idiots running around at the Ministry, starting at the top, no doubt.  Harry wondered how come Malfoy wasn't bragging about all of this.  He doubted that Daddy Dearest had taken the time to get privileged information to his son.  Lucius Malfoy was probably out there Death Cursing left and right.

Harry sat up suddenly at the thought.  Just the idea of such a thing put him into an incredible fury.  Why?  Why was he wasting his time here?  Being at Hogwarts wasn't as important as defending Britain from the likes of Death Eaters.  Harry was tempted to grab his Firebolt, cloak and get there as soon as possible.  If only he knew how to Apparate!  That would make his life so much easier!  

It was pointless.  He had given his word to Dumbledore at the beginning of the year that he would do whatever was needed of him as Head Boy.  Harry had no intention of breaking his word to Dumbledore.  If he was needed to be a gopher between the staff and the hospital wing, he'd do it.  If he had to levitate people until he was blue in the face to get assistance, then so be it.  He just felt so useless when any idiot could do it!  

And he felt like an idiot.  Today had been taxing on him, too.  He was incessantly going back and forth between the front foyer and the hospital wing.  He didn't mind that at all, but to hear the horror stories and have the worry that you're not moving fast enough to save their lives…well, it took a lot out of a person.  And the splinchings.  It was enough for Harry to never want to learn to Apparate, ever.  Yes, it would make for a quick escape to the battlefield, but the negative effects were hampering.  Witches and wizards out of desperation for lack of the Emergency Floo Network were Apparating to wherever they thought they could get help.  Magical wit dulled from the trauma of attack, they would mess the spell up, and end up in worse shape than they were in to start with.  The worst was when one who couldn't Apparate would go with someone who could, and they would end up mixing body parts.  Harry hated to think it, but the term 'circus freak' had come to mind more than once that day.

In addition to that, he had the student body to deal with, and their complete ignorance of the situation.  In between classes, he was barraged with questions pertaining to why he wasn't in class.  Oh, and his favorite was Justin Finch-Fletchley asking about Hermione every hour on the hour.  _So, do you know where she is?  Could you tell her I was asking about her?  Do you think she's in the library?  She's not in the library, Potter.  Perhaps she's in the Gryffindor Common Room.  Could you have a look for me?  I've got something I have to ask her._  And on and on and on and on. By this stage in the game, Harry knew that Justin didn't have anything of significant importance to ever ask Hermione--he wouldn't know what to ask her if it were written in meter-sized letters right before his nose!

_And I suppose you know what to ask her, eh, Potter?_  

To tell the truth, Harry didn't know very much about Hermione anymore.  Apart from how her schedule went and how she did on tests, he knew very little about what went on inside her head.

He was a coward and he knew it.  Time and time again, he let providence pass him by.  He'd had plenty of opportunities to explain his actions on Christmas.  Plenty of chances to try and thaw the ice that had grown between him, but he didn't want to see how badly things had changed.  Justin, in that sense, had more guts than he did, and Harry was a Gryffindor if there ever was one!

Harry felt like an ass, too, for not saying anything to Hermione.  He'd seen far worse than she ever had, what with watching Cedric die and all of that.  How was she coping with it?  Harry couldn't get past his own broodings to even bother to ask.  It sounded like 'Mione wanted to say more, but he sat there like a stone, for once not thinking of her.  He wasn't thinking of anything, big surprise, but he wasn't being a very good friend.

But Harry pushed those thoughts out of his head.  What good would it do for him to think about things he couldn't change?  He couldn't very well go upstairs and pull her out of bed.  She so clearly needed sleep--he couldn't be selfish.

Suddenly the memory of the most annoying incident of the day entered his head.  If anything, he should have asked Hermione about it.  She'd have been good for suggestions as to what the real problem was.  

Harry spent a good part of his afternoon taking people to the hospital wing.  He knew that there was someone to take when a name he didn't recognize appeared on his map.  He'd take them and then continue on his walking of the grounds.  The problem came in that one arrived while he was doing just that, taking a soldier to the hospital wing.  He came back immediately to look for him, but this person was gone.  Harry strained now to remember his name, even though he spent the better part of his evening looking for him.  What was it?  He wasn't sure what kind of name it was, it could be British, but it could be foreign, too.  After a few trips back and forth today, it didn't surprise him to learn that Lladudno wasn't strictly a British fight.

Harry sat up.  It was Charles Something.  Little good that did him, though.  There were lots of people named Charles.  It really annoyed him, because the name would be in the same empty hallway as Harry, and when he would call out, or search everywhere, and he meant everywhere--inside suits of armor, behind curtains, he looked silly.  It was like he was searching for a ghost.  Peeves and Nearly Headless Nick and all of the others appeared on the Marauders Map, so perhaps this Charles guy was a ghost, too.  He'd have to ask Nick if there were any new haunts about the place.  

Harry must have fallen asleep in front of the fire, because at about two o'clock, Dobby came in and told him to go to bed, but not without warning him of dangers to come.  _Harry Potter must be very careful in his walks about the castle.  Please, Harry Potter, Sir.  The other house-elves don't think it's safe.  Please, Harry Potter, find someone else to do it._

Harry reminded him that he'd promised not to try and save his life again.  Dobby laughed nervously.  _Dobby had almost forgotten, Sir.  Thank you for reminding Dobby._  As Dobby had the habit of doing, he was gone in a flash.

As Harry climbed his own staircase to the seventh floor, he wished he had talked to Hermione about this Charles fellow.  Something about it didn't feel right.

_What are you thinking, Potter?  Like she doesn't have enough problems._

For once, he agreed with his inner voice, blessedly silent as he slipped into a shiftless sleep.

~*^*~

Hermione was up early and in the hospital wing at 6 am.  She'd had a quick breakfast, thanks to a house elf that she'd run into as she was cleaning the common room.  Six o'clock was much too early any day to start such work, but there was no point in lying in bed longer.  How could she sleep when she kept imagining the moans of the dying?  It was a fitful sleep and not helped by Parvati mumbling in her sleep about some Ravenclaw.  Already, after only twelve hours of seeing the repercussions of battle, Hermione felt that such things as gossip and crushes mattered not at all.  There was a selflessness that came about her, and she immediately forgot that she was tired, her feet hurt and that she had studying to do.  Hermione performed like a machine, assisting with amputations, weldings (the reattaching of splinched limbs), and filling out medical charts of the dead as easily as if she were brushing her teeth.  To think about those people as having families and lives beyond the sterility of a white sheet would be lethal to her.  This was a good thing, though.  She was efficient, and Madam Pomfrey was glad to have her.  Hermione mastered medical charms quickly and was able to take tasks such as temperature and blood pressure off of people who could be better utilized.

Hermione's spirits were lifted with the arrival of Mandy Brocklehurst and Ginny Weasley.  Professor McGonagall took them out of their morning classes and brought them to help.  Overhearing a conversation between the Headmistress and the school nurse, she learned that they'd be expecting more injured that day.  Hermione settled in for the long haul.  

Professor Sybil Trelawney entered at nine to offer her assistance and was promptly turned away.  

"But, Minerva," Trelawney began in her wispy prediction voice, "I forsee the need for more hands, and I have only independent studies students today.  I'd be glad to offer comfort to those here."  She gestured with a bony hand, and Hermione felt a chill at the thought of what kind of comfort she could actually offer.  Hermione shook her head, thinking how badly it would turn out.  '_Yes, my son, your lifeline appears to be very short.  Beware of needles and white sheets!'_

"Sybil, you've simply read between the lines of _The Daily Prophet._ Now, please, the student body is to remain as unaware of this as humanly possible.  The less that know, the better.  Classes are to continue at all costs."

"Well," her misty voice had vanished, offended at the thought that she'd not predicted the increase in patients herself. "Whatever you think is best, Headmistress.  Have a nice day."  She turned and left in a great flourish, robes sparkling like stars.  Trelawney hadn't even come dressed to deal with blood and gore.  Hermione had shown up in her oldest set of Herbology robes.  They were clean, but nothing short of acid was going to hurt them now.

Hermione discovered that the addition of Mandy was due to her good grades, like her own, and that allowed her to be able to miss school.  The shadow of the N.E.W.T.s looming over them did little to phase their high academic standings in the eye of the faculty, so there they were and there they would stay until told otherwise.

Hermione was perplexed as to why they would ask Ginny to come in and aid, because she was an academic liability.  Good student though she was, she had been put behind by the American system and probably shouldn't risk further setbacks.  Hermione didn't want to be rude and ask, and besides, there were more important matters at hand, such as two new people entering the hospital wing.  One was a stocky boy, about Percy's age, and the other, a girl, who couldn't possibly be out of wizarding school.  

Hermione and Mandy helped the two to the only available set of cots and began assessing the damage to assist whoever would be helping the two later.  

"Name?"

"Hope Marie Phillips."

"Where do you call home?"

"Boston, Massachusetts."

Hermione looked up at the girl.  She seemed so young to be so far away from home.  "Age?"

"16."

Hermione looked up again from her clipboard.  The girl had a dirty compress applied to her head and a tourniquet around her leg.  She had walked in with the assistance of whom Hermione assumed was her older brother.  They both had the same curly blonde hair.

"What are you doing over here?  Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Why ain't you?" the girl retorted in her blatant accent.

Hermione said nothing as she continued to write down the details of the girl's afflictions.  

"Next of kin?"

Hope gestured over to the boy who was having blood drawn.  "'S my cousin, Jason.  His mom, I guess.  Anna Phillips."

Hermione wrote down the two names and started to clean blood off her face.  If the girl lost any more blood, they'd be in a lot of trouble.  

"Here, I think you ought to lie down."  Hermione propped both ends of the cot up to form a slight V-shape.  

"So much for lying down," the girl said faintly.

"I don't think you should lose much more blood, so this will have to do.  Ginny," she called.  She was walking to go wash her hands.

Ginny turned to Hermione, ready to do what she had to when she caught sight of Hope, pale against the canvas green of the cot.

"Hope!" Ginny squeaked, barely notable over the din of the room.  Ginny forgot her hands and came weaving through the mass of people.

"What are you doing here?  You mean that Jason and Matt actually let you come here?  What the bloody blazes were you thinking?  Oh, Hope honey!"  Ginny stroked the blood-matted hair away from her eyes.  "Honey, what were you thinking?"

Hope smiled weakly, her strength was quickly leaving her.  Hermione forgot what she wanted Ginny to do momentarily, and startled herself when she remembered.  She raced across the room to get some blood-clotting serum and a light rejuvenator.  

"Miss Granger, you must be more careful!" McGonagall scolded when she bumped into her.

"Sorry."  _Where is it, where is it, where is it?_  There wasn't any serum, and they seemed to be out of the kind she needed.  What could she do?

Hermione made it back over to Hope's cot and started to apply pressure to her leg, while Ginny tried to dress her head.  They were talking softly and Hermione realized that the two had gone to the Salem Witch Institute together.  They must have lived in the same house.  Out of the blue, Hermione realized why Ginny was there at all.  It was because she had seen this kind of thing before back in the States.  She wasn't about to lose her mind like other girls might.  Right now though, Ginny looked about as prepared as Ron did for a pop quiz.

Hope looked so tired, it was taking a great effort for her to explain how she'd come to Scotland.

"Honey, don't you quit on me now.  Don't you quit.  We've got stuff to do.  You can't quit on me now.  Who would I kick around for fun?  We're gonna help you."  Ginny was crying as she kept pressure on Hope's forehead.

"You never kicked me around, girl." She sighed.  "I'm just tired, that's all.  Soon as I kill the sonsofbitches that came to SWI…  You know, they wouldn't take me at Columbia?  Said that because of 'stressful times--'" Hope paused to take a much needed breath.  For a second there, it looked as though she'd forgotten what she was saying.

"Hope?"  Ginny's voice was panicked.  

"Because of the hard times, like what happened at SWI, they canceled their affirmative action clause.  They wouldn't take me, Ginge.  They wouldn't take me."

"They what?  Oh, Honey, because your mum's a Muggle?  Oh, Honey!"  Ginny kissed Hope's hair.  "Don't worry about that now, when you get better you can come to Hogwarts with me.  They don't care about that kind of thing here.  You can be in Gryffindor with me, 'cause you're so brave.  Oh, Honey, you have to stick with me."

Hope nodded and then said no more.  Hermione unpropped the foot end of the cot.  There wasn't need for it now.  Ginny sat lightly slapping Hope Phillips' cheeks, looking for a response in the girl's green eyes.

"Ginny, its no use.  Come on, let her go."

"No!  She's fine, Hermione!  Hope, Honey, Honey!  You've got to wake up!  What the hell are you doing in England?  Oh, no!" Ginny took a deep breath.  "You shouldn't be here. No, Hope."  

Ginny was biting her lip and her face went white.  Hermione didn't know what to do, she wanted to comfort Ginny, but there were so many pressing matters.

"Ginny, let her go.  We've got to keep going."

Ginny looked out the window, revealing iced-white grounds and a sun shining as if nothing was amiss.  She stood and released the other side of the cot, Summoned a sheet and covered her with it.  Hermione watched, amazed, as Ginny straightened, smoothed the sheet, and quietly said, "She was my roommate for three years, Hermione.  She was the only sister I've ever had."

The only thing that kept Hermione going was the knowledge that at sometime in the future, whether it be tomorrow, the next day, or next week, she would be able to take a well needed break, this couldn't go on forever.  It was impossible to think so.  Eventually, the Ministry would step in and take control.  Eventually, someone would come along and take the burden off of her shoulders.  

Hermione, Ginny and Mandy also spent their days writing letters to those who had family that would be worrying.  Families weren't allowed to visit their convalescing loved ones for fear of giving away the fact that they existed.  At any moment, a pack of Death Eaters could waltz into the castle and finish the helpless off.  McGonagall didn't trust anyone farther than she could throw them, unlike Dumbledore, and she wouldn't tolerate visitors.  Owled letters would have to suffice, or nothing at all.  

It was hard not to become emotionally involved now that Hermione knew about the families, boyfriends, wives, and children left behind.  _Tell my wife that I love her.  Never a day went by that I wasn't thinking of her and our babies.  I wish I could have watched them as they opened their letters, but I'll watch from Heaven.  _Sometimes, they were lighter hearted.  _Emily, if I catch you running around with boys you know I wouldn't like, I'll come down there and put them in their place.  You'll always be my little sister; no Death Eater can change that, so you better stay out of trouble.  _It became an incredible burden to bear when it hit so close to home:  _Mum, at least I'll be with my little brother now, he's been alone for so long.  I'll give him all the kisses and hugs I know you wish you could.  David's in good hands now._

It was after this letter that Hermione had to leave.  She, too, had lost her little brother a long time ago, and saw the pain her mother went through when she saw little boys with their families.  If she could give her family anything, it would be to have Michael back.  He was so tiny and pale when he died in that hospital--not unlike some of these people.  She had to get out of there.

Madam Pomfrey gave her leave, and Hermione went outside.  The smell of that room was too much, and as the week went on, she realized that the smell of iodine, morphine and Skele-Grow was never going to leave her hair and skin.  She'd never get used to it.  

Hermione headed outside to the grounds.  The fresh air would do her good, much better than a hot shower or sleep.  This last week her dreams had been filled with severed limbs and high-pitched screams.  What was the point of sleeping if it was a nightmare, just like your consciousness?

On her way past the Great Hall, she was spotted by Justin Finch-Fletchley.  Inwardly groaning, but glad for the company, she allowed him to go with her.  As they walked, she tried to avoid places that made her think of Harry, with no avail.  The Quidditch Pitch was out of question.  Hagrid's hut and garden were out.  The Great Lake was out.  The rose gardens were not an option.  Finally, she gave up and just sat down on an extremely large toadstool.  One would never see one of that size in the Muggle world.  Magic still amazed Hermione.

Justin hadn't shut up since she said 'Good evening' to him.  That was fine with her, he could be quite boring at times, and she tuned him out.  She concentrated on watching the stars twinkle on the glass-like plain.  It was still so icy outside, making the fields like a mirror.  If she didn't think, she'd stay sane.

"Oh, gosh, Herm!  How silly of me!  Here I was talking about football forever, and I haven't even asked you if you've been sick!  I've noticed that you've not been in class or the Great Hall, what gives?  You look kind of under the weather."

_Oh, so not only has he been talking about that blasted sport for half an hour, he thinks I look terrible, AND, he's sitting up-wind from me.  I must _really_ smell bad.  If he thought I was sick, how come he didn't inquire with someone, like Ron or Harry?  _

Sometimes, Justin got on her nerves, but a lot was on her nerves lately.  The 'up-wind' thing could have just been a coincidence.

Hermione sighed and prepared to lie.

"I've been working on stuff for McGonagall.  That's the beauty of being Head Girl, I guess.  You don't have to go to class anymore, if there is something else to do."

So, not a complete lie.

"Wow.  But Potter's not up to the same thing?  I've seen him, but lately he just walks around the castle mumbling to himself and looking behind drapes and things.  He scared a Hufflepuff the other morning, he was looking inside a suit of armor, and speaking Parseltongue.  Now, what am I supposed to do about it?  I've got a handful of frightened first years on my hands, and I honestly think he's just flipping out. He keeps calling around the halls for a Charles Merchant. I think I should report him."

Justin continued on this thread for about two more seconds before Hermione snapped.

"Just what have you got against him?  Do you think it was his intention to frighten your student?  I have no idea what you're talking about, but I guarantee he's not gone crazy!"

Justin's eyes opened wide when he saw the frenzy he'd worked her into.  "Hermione, calm down, you've had to have known, just about this whole week he's been at it!  I can't believe you didn't know!  He's gone loopy, Herm!  And what happened to the Aurors?  Did they go home?"

Justin shrunk in fear of her small frame as she stood.  It seemed as though her eyes were glowing with anger.  "What IS it that you have against him?  I've yet to hear a positive word about Harry from your mouth, and I think you, of all people, owe him that!"

For a second, he thought she was going to curse him, she was holding herself as though she was going to draw her wand.  

"Hermione, just take a deep breath.  I'm sorry that what I said upset you, I was just telling you about the happenings of the castle, because you've been busy.  Please don't be mad at me."

Justin's soothing did little to take the fire out of her eyes, but she did relax her hand.  Hermione gave one icy look to him and turned toward the castle.

"Herm, wait.  I'm sorry, I forgot you were good friends with him."

"Why don't you just go to McGonagall and find out what happened to the Aurors?!  And, while you're at it, you can go report Harry's peculiar behavior!  While you're at _that_, you can just be the good Prefect and maybe _ask_ Harry who he's looking for!  You could help him, you know!  It's not like you have anything better to do!!"

Merlin!  What did Justin say?  He had to chalk it up to nerves, because he'd never seen _any_ girl act like this, and she did look a little stressed!  It was Hermione's job to help Harry with the Head Boy job, after all.

"Look, Hermione.  I'm sorry I spoke out of turn.  Let's just go inside and call it a night.  I think we both need to cool off a little."

"Fine."

"All right.  Good night, Hermione."

Hermione walked right past him and went to Gryffindor Tower.

~*^*~

Harry was walking up the Astronomy Tower staircase, going on rounds by himself for the fifth night in a row.  It wasn't like he minded responsibility, but it was lonely.  To make things easier, he had his Marauders Map with him, and it discouraged him to see Hermione and the Jolly Blonde Giant walking out onto the grounds.  It sounded childish to think this, but Harry couldn't help it.  _Was he ever going to win?  _Yes, he won Quidditch games and sometimes got the better of Dudley, but was he ever going to win with this?  Harry wanted an easy way to tell Justin to back the hell off, and there wasn't one.  So, while he was busy being stubborn, part of himself was angry at someone else making moves on his best friend, and another part was angry because he was too stupid to make them himself.

In addition to that, Justin didn't have any sense.  He just knew Hermione wasn't dressed well enough to be outside.  The few times he got a glimpse of her this dreadful week, he saw that she had lost weight and lots of sleep.  What was Fletchley thinking, letting her go outside, where the frigid wind howled through the thickest wool?  He just didn't see what Hermione saw in him.  

They say jealousy is a green-eyed monster, and he felt the part.  He missed sitting in quiet comfort with her.  Forget romantic inklings, forget the pressure of that kiss.  He missed her, and was jealous of that oaf spending time with her.  

But, as always, Hermione did as she pleased, and if it pleased her to hang out with him, then it was okay with Harry.  Well, maybe not _okay_, per se, but it make it nearly tolerable.  

The week had been hard for him, he missed talking with Ron, and had barely seen him.  He was sure Ron felt abandoned, with 'Mione, Mandy, Ginny and the occasional Charlie in the hospital wing.  There wasn't anything he could do, though.  Ron had a big mouth, and it wasn't to his credit.  Professor McGonagall gave strict instructions that the student populace was not to know.  

Yes, the whole week had been a struggle for him.  How was he to know how the outside world was faring?  Why couldn't he be out there, all he was doing at Hogwarts was wearing the carpet down by pacing the castle.  His sense of duty was making his patience wear thin.

Harry saw Mrs. Norris around a corner, and out of habit, he headed in the other direction.  He couldn't get into trouble now, as it was he was Head Boy, but Filch never seemed to remember that, and he kept trying to give Harry detention, even when he was on rounds.  He settled on going to the Prefect office to put in his report and then go to bed.  

As he left the office half an hour later, he checked his Marauders Map for one last look of the castle.  He was surprised to see that the library, which was empty earlier that evening, had two people in it.  One was Hermione, a surprise due to the situation at hand, and the other was that fellow he'd been looking for all week.  He was excited at the fact that he'd finally found this Merchant fellow.  He started off in the direction of the library, with a renewed energy, forgetting that he was quite tired a few moments before.  

As he approached a fork in the corridor that took him to the library in one direction, and led to Gryffindor Tower in the other, he hesitated.  Something in him told him to get to the library as fast as possible--yet, something else told him to get his Invisibility Cloak even quicker.  

His instincts had generally led him in the right direction, and so he dashed for his dormitory, hoping that he wouldn't run into anyone on the way.  

The stairs and hallways always seem longer when one is in a rush, and Harry reached the double doors of the library with a stitch in his side.  It was as though he couldn't get there fast enough.  He caught his breath, threw the cloak over his shoulders and entered the library.  It was dark in there, as it was after hours, but he could see Hermione's nook had a soft light streaming from it, on the third level of the library--the Charms Library--her favorite place.  

With it being so dark, any light would give him away, so he racked his brain for an appropriate spell.  The beauty of advanced DADA was that you had the opportunity to learn a little of the Dark Arts, and he knew a few spells of stealth.

_"Solus Luminos"  _Harry's wand emitted a thin ray of light visible only to him.  He used it to shine light on his map.  It showed Hermione and Charles on the third level, him on the first. Harry crept as lightly as he could up the spiral staircase, praying that it did not squeak.  If Hermione caught him in his cloak, she'd never get over it.  

As he approached where Hermione was, he saw that Charles had moved into the wall?  Harry scanned it, looking for a secret passage or door or something that he'd missed in the years he'd studied there, and found nothing.  Perhaps this Charles was a ghost of one of the soldiers fallen.  At any rate, he forgot his purpose when his eyes fell upon that of the sleeping Hermione.

He whispered the counter charm and extinguished his wand.  Her face was surrounded by bounteous curls, amber in the candlelight.  There was still a sugar quill in her hand, and ink had blotted her parchment.  Harry couldn't help but smile at her diligence.  She worked all day long, and still tried to focus on her studies.  He had been told that he wouldn't be held responsible for his work, and he took that to the greatest extent.  Hermione, on the other hand, never took anything academic lightly.  She'd hold her position as first in the class till her dying breath.

He didn't know how long he stood there, just staring with his mouth kind of half open.  She just looked so peaceful.  It made him sad to think that he hardly saw that look upon her face anymore.  A smile played on her lips, and Harry knew why men could fight wars over women.  The look of contentment on her face stirred something inside him that told him he could offer his life for her and not think twice about it.  How calm and at peace she looked!

And then something changed.  Hermione appeared to be thinking; she actually bit her lip in her sleep.  Harry was curious as to what she could be dreaming about and unconsciously took a step toward her.  Hermione opened her eyes suddenly and exclaimed "Harry!" in a startled breath and sat up.  Harry caught his breath out of surprise.  Luckily, he didn't utter a sound, because it seemed she had done all of this in her sleep.  She blinked twice and awoke.

"Oh my goodness, look at the time!"  Hermione glanced at her watch and started to clean her study area.  She quickly gathered her things and left the library.

Harry just stood there, kind of stunned.  He remembered himself and looked at the Marauder's Map to make sure she was getting to Gryffindor Tower alright.  Harry was alarmed to see that she was being followed by the invisible person that was in the library minutes before.  He turned and followed as closely as he could to the Tower without being heard.    

It was odd, the figure stayed out of sight, but Harry could practically pinpoint where he was exactly on the wall.  This had been happening all week, and it was very frustrating.  

"What lovely flowers in your hair!" Hermione exclaimed tiredly.

"Thank you, love.  You get some rest.  Good night."

The portrait swung open and Harry watched Hermione step wearily through.

"Hello, Crooksha--What are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed as Crookshanks leapt for the closing door.  It shut, and Harry heard Crookshanks hit it full force.  Behind the Fat Lady, he heard faint spitting and Hermione's voice trying to soothe the cat.

It looked as though Crookshanks was headed straight for him, though there was no way the cat could have seen him.  Even Mrs. Norris couldn't see Harry in his invisibility cloak.  He knew the cat was a little crazy so he quickly forgot the incident.

He couldn't exactly just waltz in to the common room, it would be suspicious to Hermione, and he didn't want a confrontation from her right at the moment.  He turned, hearing a scratching on the stone wall behind him.  Crouching down to investigate, he pulled a tapestry away from the wall.  Harry was surprised to see a tail he recognized disappearing between the stones.  

"Scabbers?" Harry asked in disbelief.  He looked down at the Marauders Map to see if 'P. Pettigrew' appeared on the map.  Harry's blood began to boil as he scanned the old parchment.  What would he be doing there?  How could he have the audacity to show his face, with Aurors around?  But, Harry could not find Wormtail's name, and he did not see Charles anywhere.

"Damn it."

"Who's there?"  The Fat Lady called, searching the corridor up and down.  

Harry sighed as he folded his map and tucked it inside his robes.  He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and the Fat Lady gasped.

"Oh, it's just you, Mr. Potter.  I should have guessed."

"What lovely flowers you have in your hair," Harry said dispiritedly. 

"Thank you, Harry."

"Have you considered changing the password, Lucille?"

"I did," the Fat Lady said, resentfully.

"You know what I mean, though.  I can't control Seamus any more than you can, and no matter what I say to him, he's still going to come in drunk, and still going to speak before thinking.  Why make everyone suffer?  No one else has a problem with the way you look.  I hate to say it, Lucille, but it's gotten old."

"So, you think I'm old, do you?"

Harry groaned.  He was in no mood to be putting up with a painting.

"Lucille, I'm not going to ask you again.  If we're still on this password in the morning, I will tell McGonagall what problems you've been giving the students."  Harry gave her this empty threat as an effort to persuade her.  McGonagall had too much on her hands right now to be concerned with a ridiculous password.  

The Fat Lady started to sulk.

"We can always have your portrait switched with someone else's, if you don't like this job.  I'm sure Sir Cad--"

This got her attention.  "Fine.  I'll change the password, but nothing says I have to let Finnegan in."

"_I_ say you have to let Finnegan in, but I'm not telling you not to give him a hard time."

"That'll do.  The new password is 'mackled malaclaw.'"  

"Goodnight, Lucille," Harry said tiredly as he climbed through the portrait hole.

Hermione was there trying to coax Crookshanks out from underneath the sofa.  He was hissing and spitting at her, obviously still upset about running into the wall.

"Okay, so stay there, but I'm not letting you into my room when you start mewing.  If that's your prerogative, then fine and goodnight."  Hermione turned to make her way up the stairs, and she saw Harry and stopped dead in her tracks.  

Harry made a split-second decision, and decided to apologize for the kiss.  He'd left it go way too long.  

"'Mione, could you wait a minute before you go to bed?  I have something I want to say to you."

Hermione tried to collect her thoughts.  She knew this conversation was coming, it was a long time overdue, she just hoped she'd be able to keep it together.  "Sure, Harry, go ahead."  She sat down on a chair in front of the fire so as to have some distraction.

"Er, right.  Well, ah, Hermione, er.  Well, it kind of goes like this… You see, er… back in December, near the end of the month, Christmas, actually…"

Hermione turned her attention to him.  She was glad he was initiating this conversation.  He was doing much better than she thought she would be doing.

When Hermione turned to him, Harry lost his nerve.  Was he about to apologize for kissing her?  He was hardly sorry for most of it--he was only sorry it made her so upset.  He swallowed and started over.

"Hermione, I'm, well, that is to say, er… About the Yule Ball, and everything, I'm, well," Harry took a deep breath and continued.  "Damn it, 'Mione, I'm sorry I kissed you.  I screwed everything up, I shouldn't have, you're my best friend, and I had no business, well, you know."  Harry finished in a flourish.  Somehow, it was easier to get out when said quickly.

Hermione turned away from him and looked at the fire to buy herself some reaction time.  She hardly thought that he would have taken the blame for something that was so obviously her fault.  She took a deep breath an tried to laugh lightly.  She must not make him think that it was his fault.

"Oh, Harry, was that what you wanted to talk about?  That wasn't your fault at all.  I was under the influence, if you know what I mean.  McGonagall busted Seamus and Dean that night for spiking the punch with some Ogden's Fire Whiskey.  Half the student body was drunk from it.  Susan Bones was smashed."  Hermione finally turned away from the fire and looked at him.  She had to make him believe it.  

"It meant nothing.  I think I took the situation too far and behaved badly.  I've not said anything until now, because I was ashamed of myself.  Please forgive me, it meant nothing."  Where had such a lie come from?

Harry was too surprised for words.  Drunk?  Hermione?  She would have smelled the whiskey in the punch, and moreover, _he_ would have smelled it on her.  For her light weight, she handled alcohol very well.  _It meant nothing?_

"Harry, I'm sorry, I've been lousy about it.  Forgive me for that, and I'll forget you and Ron ever hid my school books for a week last year."

Harry smiled at the memory.  They'd hidden them in Professor Trelawney's classroom.  

"Well, that sounds fair.  Here,"  he stuck out his hand.  Hermione shook it.  _It meant nothing?_

There was a sort of stiff silence between them.  It had been a while since the two didn't have that hanging between them.  

_It meant nothing?_

Harry felt very empty.  What was the point of anything anymore?

Hermione cleared her throat.  _How could I have told such a lie?_  "I think I ought to be off to bed, long day tomorrow."

"Right," Harry said vaguely.  He gathered up his cloak, pulled the map out of his pocket, and headed for the stairs.  He passed Hermione--she was standing there as if she were trying to remember what to do next.  

"Right."  As an afterthought, Harry remembered he wanted to ask Hermione about Merchant.

"'Mione, you didn't happen to have a patient by the name of Charles Merchant, have you?  I've seen his name on the map here for the past week.  I've been all over for him, and I've had no luck, but he seems to be going everywhere.  I can't find him."

Hermione snapped out of her reverie and looked at Harry.  "What?"

"Here, on the map."  Harry unfolded the parchment and held it out to Hermione.  "Some Charles guy got here this week, and he's been roaming the castle.  We don't have a student on the roster by that name.  I was wondering if he was a patient that died, you know, became a ghost, but chose to be invisible?  That sounds kind of---"

"Far fetched, Harry."  Hermione scanned the map, watching Madam Pomfrey move from bed to bed, Professor Snape was pacing his office, Filch was near the library, and Mrs. Norris was on the fourth floor, near Arithmancy.  She looked for someone she didn't know, and--

"Wait, who is this by Hagrid's cabin?  Charles Méchant?  I don't know who that is, do you?  I don't recognize the name."

"Sharl What?  There's someone else?  Let me see."  Harry peered over Hermione's shoulder and followed her finger to Hagrid's pumpkin patch.  Sure enough, there was a 'Charles Méchant' there.

"Is this the Merchant you've been looking for all week?"

"How did you know I've been looking all week?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Justin told me.  So, is this the guy you've been looking for all week?  Charles Méchant?"

"Sharl What?"

Hermione smiled kindly at Harry.  He hated it when she smiled that way, it meant that he was about to have something explained to him as if he were a five-year-old.  

"_Charles Méchant,_ Harry.  I think it's French, and that's how you would say it.  Though, I don't know what 'méchant' means.  I'll have to look it up.  I don't recognize the name.  He could have been in the hospital wing, who knows, we've had so many."

"Sharl Mayshomp?"

Hermione giggled.  "Kind of."

"How do you know all of this?" Harry asked, put out.

Hermione laughed again.  "My grandmother speaks French, and does with me.  I spent my holidays with her when I was younger.  Does that satisfy?"

_Hmm.  You learn something new every day._

"Mayshomp?"

"Mey-shahnn"  She couldn't hide her smile now.

"Mayshin?"  Harry felt so silly.

"Mey-_shahnn, _Harry, _shahnn_."  Was is that hard to say?

"May-shaaaaaa," Harry said slowly, smiling down at her.  She was very pretty when she was frustrated.

Hermione felt herself starting to blush.  She was so close to kissing him again, but this time she couldn't claim intoxication.  She looked down at her shoes.

"That's right close, Harry.  Méchant.  So, you keep looking for this fellow, and I'll check the logs in the hospital wing tomorrow."  She continued on her way to the stairs.  "Good night."

Harry felt better than he had in days.  "'Night, 'Mione.  Take it easy tomorrow, okay?  It looks like you need it."

Hermione sighed.  "I take it easy enough."

"I don't think so, 'Mione.  You have to keep your strength up so you can be strong for others.  If you get sick, you'll be of no help in the hospital wing.  You'll just be _in_ the hospital wing," pleaded Harry.

"I will be the judge of that.  I think you have enough to worry about."  Hermione continued to the stairs.  "I'll let you know about Méchant."

"May-shaaa."

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she went up the stairs.  Crookshanks was already in bed waiting for her.

Harry picked his stuff up out of the common room and went up his own stairs.  He felt better for talking with Hermione.  Things with her weren't as bad as they seemed.  But as he pulled his robes off and pajamas on, he remembered: _Please forgive me, it meant nothing_.  Nothing?  The single most gratifying experience in his life had been whittled down to intoxication.  Their definitions of 'nothing' were as different as Neville was from Malfoy.  But just the same, it was over, and obviously not important to her.  

Nothing?

Harry fell into a troubled sleep where he dreamt of a rat with big teeth and curly brown hair.  He kept telling Harry, "Nothing, please forgive me, I'm nothing.  Don't worry about me."  The rat began to gnaw on Harry's arm, and he woke up.  As it turned out, Harry's arm had fallen asleep.  He shook the feeling off, but after that, had a hard time going back to sleep.

A/N II:  All comments are welcome; the only thing I ask is that you _make_ comments.  I believe that if people take the time, sweat and effort to post something, it is the reader's responsibility to review.  Quid pro quo.

By the way, the review button is that periwinkle button to the bottom left-hand corner of your screen.  Please be constructive.  Thanks for reading, if you got this far.  

And a little update:  thanks for the support for my transfer.  I'm going to Hood, www.hood.edu et le semestre prochain, j'étudierai à l'université de Strasbourg, en France!

Merci beaucoup.  


	20. Ch 19, The Eve of Perdition, Part One

**Disclaimer: Not mine & no profit.**

**A/N: Special thanks to Sierra (as always) and to Bruteaous, for staying with me. Thank you thank you. This chapter is yours.**

**A/N the second: This was delayed for a lot of inexcusable reasons, I supposedly have a better life and PC now, so let's try to avoid that for the future, shall we? I certainly don't plan on waiting three and a half years to update again. **

**As always, enjoy! -- Steph**

_I dreamed that the world was crumbling down_

_we sat on my back porch and watched it_

_I dreamed that the buildings all fell down_

_we sat on my back porch and watched it._

_In my head I heard the sound _

_like fifteen strangers dancing._

_oh how I want you to know me_

_oh how I wish I was somebody else, baby_

_oh how I wish you could own me._

_--busted, matchbox twenty_

**Chapter Nineteen: Eve of Perdition Part One**

Hermione had seen enough of the hospital wing to last her several lifetimes. By the middle of the second week of attending to the infirm, Professor McGonagall, aided by the newly returned Professor Dumbledore, bid her to return to her classes before she fell too far behind. Though grateful for the reprieve, she wanted do more. Thus, she returned after her studies to aide Madam Pomfrey with what she could. Though it had been two days since that no new arrivals had come, there was still considerable healing to be done.

If a week and a half 'holiday' from one's studies was enough to put even the least conscientious student into a frenzy, it would place Hermione into utter academic turmoil. N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching, she had yet to formalize her thesis work with McGonagall and Snape, and she had let Astronomy go so long that she hardly knew what constellations to expect when she looked to the sky that evening. To add to that, Ron and Harry aided in losing _days_ of her Transfiguration theory in the library the day before. She almost…she couldn't even think about it. She took a deep breath and tried to keep from getting angry all over again. She would catch up—she had to.

The buzz in school had a lot to do with Professor Dumbledore's sudden return to Hogwarts. Most students stated a sense of relief at his reappearance. A few choice students voiced dissatisfaction at the knowledge that he had returned. Draco Malfoy was among these few who summoned enough pluck to say so in the company of others. He was followed closely by the likes of Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson.

On their way out of Potions, Ron and Harry had the misfortune of hearing them voice such opinions.

"Oh, well, I suppose it's no different than having only McGonagall. She's his puppet anyway. Father says he wouldn't be surprised if half the staff here were under his spell."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked on. Ron, it seemed, hadn't heard Malfoy, the lucky git. He was better employed, admiring a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"Oh, yes, Draco," breathed Pansy. "I agree with you completely. If it weren't McGonagall being his mime, it would have been Flitwick." She finished off with a sick sort of simpering look that made Malfoy recoil.

"Or Sprout," said either Crabbe or Goyle. Harry could never be sure, and he was certain it didn't matter one way or the other, they were both thick.

"Or Snape," crowed the other.

Curious, Harry stopped, and pulled Ron aside behind a drape.

"What? Crabbe, have you lost your mind? Father says Snape is the only one who pulls his weight around here!" Malfoy was incredulous.

Colour seeped into Crabbe's features as he quickly apologized. "Slipped, Draco, just slipped. Dunno what I was thinking."

"Thinking?" Malfoy scoffed. "I don't believe you've ever had a thought in your life."

Goyle and Parkinson laughed as they were expected. Malfoy, who was satisfied, continued up the staircase out of the dungeons.

"I suspect that he won't be here long, though. Father believes he'll be running away again, though he didn't tell me where."

Harry couldn't resist the temptation and motioned Ron, who finally figured out what was going on, and watched with anticipation. Who would pass up an opportunity to annoy Malfoy?

"That's _funny_, Malfoy. I wasn't aware that prisoners could receive _The Daily Prophet_ in Azkaban! How odd it is that he would know Professor Dumbledore is back, and, it is bewildering that _you _know what your father thinks about this subject! I wasn't aware that they had restarted Owl Post to Hogwarts."

Pansy Parkinson gasped. Crabbe and Goyle, a few steps behind the rest, exchanged a look that said: _Mr. Malfoy's still in Azkaban? How could we miss that?_ Ron just sniggered.

"Oh, Potter, Potter, Potter," Malfoy shook his head slowly. "You know as well as _I_ that Father is no longer there. But, this concept of receiving _The Prophet_ in Azkaban is really novel. Perhaps _you_ know someone, possibly someone from your own family," he sneered, "would know what it was like to be in that place. I bet you could ask hi---but, no, you can't. Sorry 'bout that, Potter. Sorry dead bastard, eh?" Malfoy twirled his wand between his fingers and turned to Ron. "It must be bad luck to be in Potter's reach, I'd watch out if I were you, Weasel. You could end up dead."

Ron was about to shove his wand down Malfoy's throat, but Harry simply sighed and stepped between them. He still hoped for some kind of sign about Sirius, and wanted as badly as Ron to give Malfoy some of his own medicine, but somehow Harry knew Sirius wouldn't want that.

Then again, there was one thing that Malfoy mentioned that bothered him. Lucius Malfoy _would_ still be in Azkaban, but it got brushed off less than a month after he was imprisoned as a 'misunderstanding.' When Harry went to testify against him, his account held little credence.

"Believe what you wish, but I have no inside evidence leading toward that point, Malfoy. You'd be better off asking your father. He'd still be there if it weren't for loops in the system."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks of relief. Mr. Malfoy wasn't in prison after all.

Malfoy just looked at them serenely. Harry went on.

"But, really, Prefect Malfoy. How do you manage to know your father's mind on the subject of Dumbledore? No one has gotten letters since September," Harry supplied, remembering the cursed letters that had peppered the daily Post.

Malfoy smiled. "Remember, Potter, when I told you to be careful of whom you chose as friends? You should have listened. Let's just say I heard it through the grapevine." Malfoy sneered and then bowed his head. "Professor Snape, sir. Wonderful lesson."

Snape walked past the students on the stairs, giving a look of indifference to Malfoy and one of disdain to Harry and Ron.

So! That was where Malfoy got his information! After all these years of Snape supposedly 'being on their side' as Hermione tried to convince him almost weekly, Harry still didn't understand the man. Snape's loyalties may have lain with Dumbledore, but he had a bad way of showing it.

Ron and Harry continued on their way to the ground floor. Coming out of the dungeons always gave Harry the feeling of waking up from a cold nightmare. He hated his time down there, and stepping into the Great Hall was much like waking to sunlight and warmth, even in the sunless winter. They made their way to the staircase, stopping to say a quick 'Hello' to Firenze, with whom they rarely had a chance to speak. He was talking with Professor McGonagall.

Ever since he came back in fifth year, that particular part of the castle had a peculiar feel to it. Harry felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he and Ron approached the two instructors. They were deep in conference, which caused Harry to hesitate. Ron turned to Harry as if to ask what the hold up was, but Harry shook his head, and they rounded the corner instead of going up the stairs.

"You know, we're going to be late for Trelawney," Ron said, though at the moment, he questioned why all of the sudden he cared.

"This is a fine time to start caring! Besides, Ron, don't you want to know what's going on?"

"And what do you think is going on, Harry? I don't see anything unusual here."

"When was the last time you saw Firenze out of his classroom during the day? All the time at night, but _never_ now. Just wait it out."

Ron relented, and he pulled the age-old disguise out of his bag. _Quidditch through the Ages_ appeared in his hands and Harry and Ron looked over it, suddenly very interested in the Woollongong Shimmy, all the while, listening to what was taking place around the corner.

"Madam, it cannot be ignored. This requires immediate attention. I shall leave to try and make peace with my people, to see if they have an interpretation of this three-day sky."

_Three-day sky?_ The two boys mouthed to each other.

"Professor Dumbledore does not wish it to be so. Firenze, you must understand your absence will only cause alarm among the students, not to mention the disappointment of the students who will have to climb to the top of the castle for class."

"These are ominous times, Minerva. I did not come to Hogwarts to please children, and my suspicion is that the walk to the top of the castle is not what disappoints them, rather the class."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, though Harry suspected it was to cover a snort, as Ron and himself had a hard time keeping quiet and unnoticed.

"Please wait until you speak again with Professor Dumbledore. He is at a meeting right now, but is eager to speak with you before the day is out."

Harry heard Firenze sigh in defeat. "Very well, Professor, but only so until tonight. We have not time to waste, a three-day sky, and it will be cloaked. I cannot see past that darkness. I wish knew what that meant."

Ron and Harry had forgotten the Woollongong Shimmy entirely, and were gaping at each other, trying to convince themselves they had _not_ heard the grief in Firenze's voice.

"What are you two doing here, gaping like a bunch of ... Never mind. Potter, Weasley, what is going on, and why aren't you in class?"

"Professor McGonagall, we were, er—waiting for Hermione. She said she'd meet us here after class," Ron smoothly lied.

"That's all well and good, Mr. Weasley, but Miss Granger is in my classroom now, in Advanced Transfiguration Theory. You will be waiting here for at least another half-hour." She eyed the two suspiciously.

"We don't mind, Professor," Harry piped, trying to take the attention away from Ron's gaping mouth, which had reached surprising new lows on account of McGonagall seeing right through his last lie.

"I do quite mind, though, Mr. Potter, and I have a feeling that Professor Trelawney is minding at this very minute. Go to class." She looked down her nose through her square glasses, the point of her hat positioned like a scorpion's stinger. Harry felt slightly in danger.

"Yes, Professor," the two said at once, and headed quickly up the grand staircase, skipping the false step as easily as breathing.

When they were safely two floors above, they slowed on their way to class, as they were already late. "We're not missing much, anyway," Ron reasoned.

"Ron, what is a three day sky?" Harry asked as he pulled aside a tapestry to reveal a hidden staircase.

"Got me. Did we ever hear about it in Firenze's class? I don't think so, and we've never learned anything more useful than brewing tea in Trelawney's."

They hit a landing, and Harry looked out the window to see the bright blue sky dotted with wispy clouds. "Looks the same to me."

They continued to discuss what they heard the rest of the way to Trelawney's classroom, and throughout class, too, as she had given up on the two of them many months ago. Trelawney only used Harry to frighten the others, because, by that time, she had failed to do so with him.

"_What do you think 'cloaked' means, Harry?"_ Ron asked in an unmistakably loud whisper. _"Like your Invisibility Cloak?_"

"Ron, shut up. You're way too loud."

"Sorry," he continued, much quieter, now only half the class could hear him. "But, you know, like, is the sky cloaked? Should we go look at the stars tonight in the tower? It's pretty clear now, and Hermione would be able to help us with anything in-depth. I never paid much attention in Astronomy anyway."

Harry was momentarily caught up in how, after a while, he stopped paying attention to anything but Hermione up there in the Astronomy Tower. He wondered if she was going to forget her sweater this time... Unfortunately, due to his musings, he did not see Professor Trelawney advancing.

"Much like this class, I presume," Professor Trelawney breathed. "But, if there is anything you would like to look over, speak up. Since the two of you decided to grace us with your presence ten minutes after the rest thought it a good idea to show up, maybe you believe that you aren't in need of an exam revision."

"No, Professor, that is not necessary. Your teaching skills are exemplary, and there is no need to be redundant with the material." Harry turned on his charm, hoping she'd eat it up and leave them alone. He also silently prayed that his fringe was covering his scar. She only seemed to remember that he was 'doomed' lately if she could see it. She was losing her touch.

Trelawney looked sceptically at the two of them, wondering if they could possibly be serious, but then she thought how the Misses Brown and Patil had said similar things before, and they were her best pupils. After one last look searching for disrespect, and finding none, she continued on with her discussion, leaving Harry and Ron be.

"That was smooth, mate."

"Thank you," Harry was pretty proud of himself. They waited until Trelawney was deep into her self-appreciation speech to pick up where they left off.

"Anyway, mate, I think Hermione would know more about this one. Do you think we can go to the Astronomy Tower tonight? She's bound to have everything memorized about the sky anyway; she'd be able to tell us what we need to know."

"Yeah, I'm not Head Boy for anything, am I? You can use my Invisibility Cloak, as there's that curfew and all. 'Mione and I are exempt from that, but let's just hope we don't run into Dinwiddie or Stockton up there."

Later that day in the common room, Ron and Harry were relating what they had overheard that morning to Hermione. Hermione sat back and crossed her arms, happy to see the banter that went between the two of them. Maybe it was the spring weather, maybe it was something else, but there was an energy there, a real energy. Ron and Harry were as close as real brothers could be, though they held none of the resemblance, except perhaps height. They were in high spirits, and because of that, she refused to let her own poor mood intervene. She smiled. "Tell me again what you heard, exactly."

They were huddled in a corner, but the common room was deathly quiet and almost empty. O.W.L.s were coming, as wells as the N.E.W.T.s and the students there were being respectful of each other.

"Okay, so Harry and I were walking up from the dungeons," began Ron.

"You were coming up from class?"

"Yeah, Potions with Snape and Malfoy," Ron said, shuddering.

"So, you were walking up from Potions, and you heard Firenze and Professor McGonagall talking..."

"Actually, we heard Malfoy complaining about Dumbledore being back."

"I don't understand, I thought this was about some 'sky' thing."

"Well, it is, but we ran into Malfoy and his zoo first."

"The interesting thing, Hermione, if you'd let us continue, is that Malfoy's zoo, as Harry so eloquently put it," he started.

"Thank you, Ron," Harry smiled.

"Anytime. Anyway, they talked about how McGonagall was Dumbledore's puppet--and that if it wasn't McGonagall, it would have been Flitwick."

"Or Sprout."

"But the best part, the _best_ is that Goyle..."

"Or Crabbe."

"Right … suggested that _Snape_ was a puppet of Dumbledore! That _Snape_ wasn't in their league after all."

"Well, we know the truth to that, what did Malfoy say?"

"He basically flipped out, it was pretty funny," Ron replied with a smirk.

Harry laughed, breaking the relative quiet of the room. "Yeah, it went something like this: _What? Crabbe, have you lost your mind? Fah-ther says Snape is the only one who pulls his weight around here!_"

"I didn't know anyone could go that nasal, Harry. That was pretty good."

"At your service. And, if _Fah-ther_ thinks so, then it _must_ be true, of course."

"What does this have to do with Firenze?"

"Nothing, really, it's just what happened before we saw Firenze out of his classroom," Harry said.

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Firenze was out of the classroom? But you know how he doesn't do that! Too many girls stare at him, I think."

"Well, he was out, and since Harry and I don't have class with him, we thought we'd say 'hullo,' you know, 'cause we never see him."

"And, that's when we decided to eavesdrop,_" _Harry said easily.

"What made you decide that?"

Ron looked turned to Harry, curious, too. "Yeah, Harry, what made you decide to do that?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Well, first off, it would have been rude to interrupt, and it looked so weird, you know. We didn't even see him at the Yule Ball."

Hermione blushed slightly at the reference, and Harry felt bad for bringing it up. Ron noticed nothing.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. So, we pulled out my Quidditch book and waited for you."

"You _waited_ for me."

"Well, that's what we told McGonagall when she caught us," said Ron.

"Did she catch you before or after you heard the conversation? Because, I don't think she'd say anything if she knew you were listening."

"Right. Basically, she was trying to keep Firenze from leaving the grounds. It was a pretty poor excuse, too, stating that the students would miss him and have to go to Trelawney instead."

Hermione looked at Ron. "That's a pretty good reason to stay, if you ask me."

Ron blinked at Hermione.

"Anyway, Hermione," Harry continued, "Firenze said he had to try and make peace with his people and see what could be done about this 'three day sky.' Then he said 'three day sky, and it will be cloaked. I can't see anything in the dark, and I wish I could.' Or something like that. Then McGonagall asked him to stay until he talked with Dumbledore."

Hermione was very thoughtful. "That's very centaur-like. So, he's going to talk to Dumbledore, and then leave?"

"That's what we think."

"Hm. Well, are you guys up to going to the Astronomy Tower tonight? Ron, you'll have to use Harry's Invisibility Cloak, because of the curfew, and Harry and I are exempt from that. Let's just hope we don't run into the Aurors up there." She started making plans, while Ron gave Harry a bewildered look--that the two of them could have said almost exactly the same thing within 30 minutes of each other…it was bewildering.

"Ron. Hello?" Hermione waved in front of his face. Ron moved his gaze from Harry, who was confused, to Hermione, who was frustrated. "Ron, what other types of cloaks are there besides the Invisibility Cloak, the Stealth and Chameleon? Are there any that I am missing?"

"You mean that there's something you don't know?"

Hermione glared at him, and turned to Harry. "You're studying, you and Ron, for your Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T., right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Has Charlie mentioned cloaking animals or anything like that that cloak?"

"Cloak?" Harry asked.

Hermione glared at him, too. "Obviously, I didn't misspeak, Harry. For the last ten minutes, we've been talking about cloaked things. Can you look through the zoological encyclopaedias in the library for any kind of characteristic like that, you know, disappearing, reappearing, going invisible, that kind of thing. We don't have much time, judging from how distressed Firenze sounded. We need to make the most of our time, because he is. Ron, I want you to look up the history of those Cloaks, and any others, if you can find them."

"Well, what are you going to be doing, then, Hermione?" Ron asked, a little exasperated that he had to do more work in addition to his Potions essay.

"I'll do the spell research, because I know the both of you won't. We really don't have a lot of time, so we should work on this through dinner until it's time to go on rounds, then, Ron, you can continue until we come and get you to go to the Astronomy Tower."

"Hold on. No one said anything about working through dinner, Hermione. That's cruel and unusual."

"Ron, think with your brain and leave your stomach behind for once. We can get Dobby to bring something up to us, I bet, if we have Harry ask." She smiled sweetly at Harry.

"What about spew?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, you know it's S.P.E.W., but do we really have a choice? And Dobby gets paid, anyway, so we won't be _abusing_ the system," she said, with a slight grin.

Ron was shuffling along under the Invisibility Cloak at 11.30 that night, making as much noise as possible because he was dissatisfied with having to stoop down.

"Ron, you're going to have to be quieter, the walls do have ears, you know," Harry said, slightly frustrated. Rounds had been difficult in Slytherin that night, because a few people had set dung bombs in his rucksack that he'd forgotten to leave in the common room. He still thought he smelled, though Hermione promised him it was barely noticeable.

As they reached the Astronomy Tower, Ron removed the Invisibility Cloak and straightened his back. "Wonder if we could lengthen this thing," he mumbled.

"It adjusts to the length of the owner, Ron, not the wearer. It's kind of an anti-theft device. If Hermione were to wear it, it would drag; it's just my size."

"Hrm," Ron grumbled, looking to the sky. "So, what are we looking for up here?"

Hermione ignored him, already busy with calibrating the telescopes, and Harry made no answer, as he didn't know. Ron busied himself with picking moss off the crenulations.

Hermione was checking the position of Orion in her textbook when Harry came up behind her and said lowly into her ear: "Have you found anything yet?"

Hermione wasn't going to find anything if he kept sneaking up on her like that, not to mention the dizzying effect his whisper had on her senses. She shook her head and took a deep breath of the cold night air. She wished she'd remembered her sweater. Really, one would think she'd remember it, after almost seven years of being up there at midnight. "Ron, give me Harry's cloak. I forgot my sweater."

Ron, who wasn't doing much of anything, handed it absentmindedly to Hermione, and Harry cursed his bad luck. "For being so thin, this is surprisingly warm."

"Yeah, but it's very weird seeing just your head in the middle of nowhere," Ron said vaguely.

"I'm sure it is," she said, distracted, turning to yet another telescope.

"So, what's up there?"

"Nothing unusual, I don't think, everything looks dim to me, why don't you take a look?"

Harry consented, and took an open telescope. Swinging it to Orion's Belt, the only constellation he was ever able to freely pick from the sky, he did notice that it was dimmer. In fact, everything did.

"You think it could be the lens?" He pushed his glasses up to the top of his head to make sure it wasn't his glasses. They still looked dim.

"I think they get polished, and I know they're maintained. We learned about that our first year. I could ask Professor Sinistra, my guess is that atmospheric gasses are causing this effect, the air might be dirty from the smog of Glasgow and Edinburgh; it wouldn't be unheard of."

"We're a lot further north than that, 'Mione, you know."

"I'll still ask, but I wonder if Firenze meant something else."

"Hermione," Ron said, deciding to join the conversation, "You know Firenze never talks about anything else."

"That's true." She gave one last look at the sky, _what are you hiding? _and then returned the telescopes to their original calibration. She looked at her watch. "We should be getting back."

The two acknowledged this, and Hermione handed the cloak back to Ron.

The next day, Hermione did ask Professor Sinistra if there was anything unusual going on with the sky—the answer was negative, and that her suspicion was also atmospheric gasses. Hermione couldn't be convinced, but it seemed that that road was blocked. In the meantime, she kept herself busy with investigating cloaking charms: anything from smoke spells to extinguishing charms and disillusionments.

Firenze was gone, and no one seemed to notice. His students just thought it nice to have a holiday from his mysterious statements, and Ron, Harry and Hermione had nothing else to spark their concern.

On Friday of that week, the student body was alive with anticipation. It was destined to be a beautiful weekend with lots of sunshine. Gryffindor was playing Ravenclaw, and rumour had it was going to be a good match.

Harry and Ron's classes got out by noon that day, and so they decided to take advantage of the sunny afternoon and play around on the Quidditch Pitch. After about ten minutes of throwing the Quaffle around, Harry began to wish he wore contacts, because the light of the sun on his face in combination with his lenses was making his face burn. The two of them had shucked their robes before taking off, and now Harry saw Ron peeling his jumper off, too. Harry saw it flutter to the ground, and something in his stomach gave a lurch.

"Harry!"

"What, Ron?" Harry asked, alarmed. Ron was nearly in his face, forcing Harry to push back away from him, momentarily losing balance.

"Are you going to play? Throw me the Quaffle."

"Oh, yeah, sure." He threw it, and peeled his jumper off as well. He decided it would get hot once they really got going and had released a Bludger or two, so he took his tie and shirt with it. Already, his tee shirt was sticking to his chest.

"Better idea, mate." Ron threw it back, and did the same. Again, Harry's stomach flip-flopped as he saw Ron's uniform wave to the green of the ground. Harry watched as a few students splashed around in the shallows of the lake. Far away, he could see smoke coming from Hagrid's chimney, though Hagrid was still missing. It wasn't unusual for Charlie to go in and make himself at home. Hagrid would want him to.

Harry shook himself, trying to rid himself of that bizarre feeling and did a quick lap around the pitch. Ron hollered that he was going to let a Bludger loose, and so for a little while, Harry concentrated solely on not getting smacked. Ron's skills in Quidditch turned out to be as phenomenal as his brothers' were, and so they got a real workout, going long, doing nearly impossible throws and dives.

After about an hour, they decided to put the equipment away and they sat down in the Gryffindor stands.

"You're ginger all over, now, mate," Harry said, as he pressed a finger to Ron's skin, watching the mark go from white back to red.

"Yeah. Forgot my cream. Oh well," he shrugged. "I'll be like Charlie one of these days, so freckled you think I'm tan. It's inevitable in sun like this. Merlin, it feels like it's stuck at noon." He thought for a minute. "Might as well make the burn even." He peeled his undershirt off as well, and stretched out over the bleachers.

Harry concurred. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He peeled his shirt and balled it behind his head, lounging in the sun.

"It's like summer already," Ron said, sighing.

Harry took that sigh as a clue that something was bothering Ron. He rarely sounded sentimental, and Harry supposed there was something he wanted to talk about. Harry started to open his mouth when Ron beat him to it.

"So, what will you be doing this summer, Harry?"

Harry hadn't thought that far. "Dunno, Ron. Suppose the Dursleys will have me out, though. Guess I have to find a place to go. Maybe they'll let me in at Grimmauld Place."

Ron stole a sideways glance at Harry. "I'm sure someone there would let you in. Well, anyway, you know Mum wants you to stay with us. She's hoping we do something non-life threatening together. Charlie says that is what she was mooning about last time he saw her."

"Like what? That leaves out Quidditch..."

"And being Aurors..."

"And the Order..."

"And anything else worth doing," Ron concluded. "I think Quidditch would be alright, you know, Harry. Playing for the Cannons. That would be bloody brilliant." He shifted and a grin spread across his face, imagining his name being said over thousands of adoring fans.

"Yeah, it'd be pretty fantastic," he murmured. "I think doing something subtle would be good, too. I've been thinking a lot lately, you know, and maybe living a few years with Muggles, well, in the Muggle world wouldn't be too bad. Take a break from everything. Maybe stay up in Scotland and fish and stuff. Maybe in the southwest, around Exeter or something. Merlin, I don't know."

"Well, you can't go wrong with Scotland, mate. If you're near Exeter, though, Mum will insist you live with us instead, we're only a jot away from there."

"Right. Well, Brighton, or Southampton. Something on the sea. Dover. Whatever."

Ron felt for his friend, Harry sounded so dejected. He couldn't blame him for wanting to get away from everything. He'd always said that he hated it. It seemed so unfair that Ron would have traded everything for Harry's fame, and Harry would have done the same for Ron's anonymity.

"But, I think I could stand a little of being Ron Weasley, you know. Not, The Youngest Weasley Son. Sometimes I feel bad for Ginny, her being The Weasley Daughter. You know, Bill's the Banker-Code Breaker, Charlie is the Adventurer, Percy--I don't want to think about, and the Twins are the Twins. I guess I'm Harry Potter's Best Friend." Ron stole another side glance. Harry was still lounging with his eyes closed. "It's not like I mind, Harry. I just kind of, you know..." He trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"I do know, Ron," Harry said slowly. "We're both under the same shadow: my name. I think we both want to get away from my scar." Harry looked over at Ron, whose eyes were shut. "Don't worry about it, Ron, I feel the same thing. It doesn't bother me. Unfortunately, if I changed my name, people here would still follow me around."

Ron felt a little sheepish, though he knew Harry wasn't mad at him. If anything, Harry was feeling melancholy himself. It remained quiet for a time, until Ron thought Harry had fallen asleep. Having made the mistake of falling asleep in the sun before, he decided it was time for them to go into the castle. Maybe Hermione knew of some burn remedy for the two of them.

"Ron, do you ever wonder about when this is going to be over?" Harry asked, making Ron jump out of his skin.

"What? Sorry, Harry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you know, the waiting. The always looking over my shoulder... When is Voldemort finally going to come for me?"

Ron involuntarily shivered at the reference to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was at a loss for words.

"Will it be at Hogwarts? Will it be at Hogsmeade? I'm not asking for a notice or anything, I guess I am just tired of waiting."

Ron still had no idea what to say. These were questions he also had for himself, usually troubling him in their dorm room when the lights were out.

"You know, Ron, I keep having this dream, it's weird, you know?"

Ron was really worried now. "Dreams, Harry? What kind? Shouldn't you tell Dumbledore?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's dark, you know, and we're outside. It's really dark, no lights from the castle, from our wands, anything. We're out in the middle of the pitch, too. You're there, but you're sleeping, and Hermione is there, too. It's almost like we're in this bunker type thing and I'm really tired. You're sleeping, and Hermione is talking to me, trying to keep me awake. It's so dark, and then there's this flash of light. Like lightning. No thunder. The whole sky is lit up, and for a moment, I can see the stands, Hagrid's cabin, the lake. In the next flash, a few seconds later, I see the castle. And, it's crumbling away, like it was made of sand, like a sand castle."

"And, I _slept_ through this?"

"I think you were supposed to."

Ron didn't say anything, and it was quiet for a long time.

"I saw the castle fall down, and we were sitting on the pitch, just watching it. We just sat there, Ron. It took forever, and then the wind picked up, and it just blew away, almost grain by grain. I didn't feel like getting up to stop it, either. Eventually the flashes of light stop, and there's nothing. You're still asleep, and Hermione has stopped trying to keep me awake. I still know you're both still there. It's completely dark, and I start to think that we're not anywhere, and everything just holds, like it freezes in time. I tell myself it's a dream, I know it is--and I can't wake up to get away." Harry fell silent.

Ron stared forward for a bit. "We just sat there?"

"We sat there."

"Was there anything we could have done?"

"Don't know. I didn't care. And that bothers me."

"It would bother me, too. I can't believe I slept through it all."

"It was just a dream, Ron."

"It was," Ron agreed. "If I were you, I wouldn't tell Hermione."

Harry laughed, and it agreed with the brightness of the afternoon. To Ron, it didn't seem as depressing of a conversation any longer. "No, I wouldn't tell Hermione. I'd be more likely to tell Trelawney. There's no reason to make her upset."

"Yeah, can you imagine?" Ron brought up his best Hermione impression. He stood with his hands on his hips, and looked to the sky, because, of course, she was shorter than the two of them. "Harry, you shouldn't worry about that sort of thing. What do dreams tell you anyway? Don't go looking in one of Trelawney's books, either. There's no need to worry about what you can't change. If you want, I'll brew something. There has to be a spell somewhere. Let me go get _A Dream's Quick Remedy: Fifty Potions to Rid Yourself of Meaningless Attempts at Dream Interpretation._ No, wait," Ron doubled over, laughing, "Let me get _Hogwarts, A History._ It might be in there." Ron had to stop and sit down, as he couldn't continue.

Harry was laughing, too. Ron's impression of her had gotten better over the years. "Ron, that's hardly being fair. That's better advice than any you've given me about it."

"Ah, well," he said, wiping a tear from his eye, "the truth hurts. She doesn't mean any harm." Ron looked toward the castle. "Well, speak of the devil. There she is." He pointed toward the figure walking to the pitch. Hermione waved to them, and put her hands to her mouth, making a megaphone.

"WHAT?" Ron hollered back.

"Ron! Please!" Harry yelled, covering his ears.

"Oh. Sorry." He looked a little sheepish. Hermione started to yell again, and Harry could just make out her voice, but not what she was saying. She abruptly stopped, and Harry saw her pull out her wand. In the next second, it was obvious what she wanted.

"It's time for dinner. Come inside."

"WHAT?" Ron yelled again, and turned to Harry. "It can't be that late. Look at the sun."

Indeed, it did look like it was still right after lunch, but Harry's stomach told him it was time to eat. Hermione repeated her request.

"We ought to go," Harry said. He pulled his shirt back on and replaced his glasses. Ron and he both mounted their brooms and went to the pitch to pick up the rest of their uniforms. Hermione called to them, telling them she'd meet them inside.

After putting away the Quidditch equipment, they headed up the hill to the castle. "You know, Harry, if you want advice, I'll give you some."

Harry turned inquisitively to his friend.

"Leave. You should get out of here; leave so no one can find you. That way, you stay safe," Ron's blue eyes were the most serious Harry had ever seen them. "Prophecies don't mean anything from someone with such a bad track record. Trelawney's full of it."

"You think I should leave." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"Yeah, I do."

"Why haven't you told me this before?"

"You never asked before."

"I didn't ask this time," Harry smirked.

"That's very true, mate, very true," Ron laughed.

"You wouldn't leave."

Ron laughed at that, too. "No, I wouldn't. What do you take me for, a Slytherin?"

Harry looked Ron up and down, letting Ron believe for about three seconds that that really was what Harry thought, and then he smiled. "No, what do you take _me_ for?"

"A Gryffindor, of course. It's in our blood."

"It is. And of course I wouldn't leave--well, I might, if I thought it would make a difference. I wouldn't run away."

"I didn't think so, that's why I never bothered trying to convince you. I wouldn't be able to respect you if you did leave like that."

Harry laughed again. "I should bloody well hope not! Come on, 'Mione's waiting, and I know there's some good food waiting for us in the castle." He quickened his step.

"Courtesy of our friend, Dobby, or I should say, your personal fan club."

"You know it." Harry slapped Ron on the back for good measure.

"Harry!" Ron yelped. "My sunburn!"

Dinner was a happy affair, most students laughing, despite the on-coming exams. It was a beautiful day, and the mood was infectious. Hermione was deep in conversation with Neville about the Dark qualities of Devil's Snare, and the theory of whether plants could be classified dangerously, like the M.O.M. classifications for magical creatures. Ron was talking with his mouth full over Ginny's head to talk to Seamus about a legendary Cannons game. The entire Great Hall was alive with the infectious mood of summer.

Dessert was Harry's favourite, pumpkin pie. He made sure he got a healthy serving of it before anyone else got a hold of it. As he passed the pie server to Hermione, their fingers brushed and his eyes involuntarily snapped up to her. She must have gotten out in the sun, too, because her face had a glow it seemed only summer could give.

"Harry, are you alright? Your face is all red," she queried with concern.

Harry looked down to his pumpkin pie. The cream was running off the side, and he slid it back up with his fork. Clearing his throat and taking a drink of water, he said, "We just got some sun today, Hermione. Ron and I were on the pitch all afternoon."

"I am certain Madam Pomfrey has something that can help with that. You should go see her after dinner."

Harry tried to think of a decent reply, but instead he caught himself looking at the freckles on her nose that seemed to have jumped out today. Luckily he was saved from such a task as Parvati asked her a question about an upcoming N.E.W.T.

After dinner, Hermione headed back up to the library. She'd been there all day, except for a brief lapse around four o'clock when she'd seen some young Gryffindors misbehaving at the shore of the lake. When she'd managed to drag herself outside, she sort of zoned out, almost in a trance, really. It had been the kind of day to do that to you, where you don't notice your mind has been somewhere else and you lose all track of time. After she'd given the girls a warning, she'd sat under a tree, looking over the grounds. Her eyes had rested on the pitch, where she saw two figures flying. She recognized both Harry and Ron's style of flying the minute she'd laid eyes on them. After what had seemed a minute or two was actually half an hour, and when she looked at her watch, she realized how much time she'd lost. It really did appear as though she'd just stepped outside. She picked herself up, and with a last look at the boys, she returned to her books. She still had an hour or so to do research before dinner.

What had started out as what appeared to be a relatively easy research topic was in all actuality, very involved. A few days ago, Ron had given her a short but "thorough" list (as he assured her) of types of invisibility cloaks, and she, in turn, was reading up on them. The other night, when the three of them were at the top of the Astronomy Tower, she just got this feeling that You-Know-Who was hiding something, that eventually, they wouldn't be able to see what he was doing at all. She didn't know how it was supposed to work, or how he was going to do it, but she knew she had to start somewhere.

The books piled haphazardly around her were about as sporadic as her thoughts. There were books about night magic: an old, indigenous form of magic that was used in the Balkans around the time of Charlemagne. She found a book about Cloning invisibility, which was similar to Chameleonism, it was quite like the effects of the Polyjuice potion, but it was very difficult and hard to maintain. In fact, Cloning took so much magic that there were only two documented cases of it, and, in the book she was skimming, it seemed that the wizard who did it the first time was so unsure of himself, he used his identical twin to appear as a backup in case of failure so he wouldn't be laughed at by his colleagues. It was successful though, and the magical community was so impressed with him being able to replicate himself twice, rather than the promised once, he was named the Spell and Advancement Laureate of the year.

Hours after dinner, she was still no where close to coming to any kind of clear thought about that feeling she had up in the Astronomy Tower. She was about to ask Madam Pince if she could leave her books on the table for the night when she looked up and realized it wasn't night time at all. Her watch was still ticking, still in good working order, but it looked barely noon. The great clock on the wall was moving toward nine o'clock and Madam Pince was shooing students, though few they were, from the shelves of dusty books.

Hermione's head snapped again to the window overlooking the lake. There were, even now, some students outside, but most of them had tired it seemed, from the oppressive heat. A noon that lasted all day could do that to you.

Wait just a minute. _All day_, Hermione thought. She ducked around a bookshelf before Madam Pince asked her to leave the library, and she hurried to the section on the solar system. Nervously looking over her shoulder, she browsed the shelves, looking for _something_ that might give her an answer... not that she was sure for what exactly she was looking.

She decided as she heard the tell-tale steps of the librarian approach that _Sol, Soleil, Sun, Sonne_ would hold the answer she was seeking. Unfortunately, the book was more than rare, as it looked to be about from the 1500s, and was on a two-hour borrow status only. Hermione, in one of her more rebellious moments, decided what Madam Pince did not know would not hurt her. She smiled brightly at her as she grabbed her bag and some random books from her stacks before exiting as quickly as possible.

Madam Pince, who had always trusted Miss Granger, did not give her a second glance, but only granted the passing thought that it was unfortunate that she kept company with troublemakers like Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. It seemed every time they were in her library, there was something amiss.

Hermione skirted into the common room right at nine-fifteen, deposited her books on what she liked to call 'her' table and looked around for Harry. She figured they would have a difficult time at rounds tonight, as it seemed the whole solar system went on holiday and didn't give notice. There would be a lot of people in the halls tonight. After a short quizzing of the students in the room, she found out that Harry hadn't been seen since dinner. She hardly thought that he would be in the hospital wing; she couldn't see him from any of the tower windows, and those looked pretty much over the entire campus. As there was a Quidditch match the next day, she figured he'd want to get some rest, though the thought of Quidditch led her to Hagrid's cabin.

Harry and Ron were both there with Charlie at Hagrid's, however they were not telling old Quidditch stories as she expected. They were between it and the Forbidden Forest. Charlie Weasley was throwing curses at the two of them, and Ron and Harry were doing their best to thwart them.

At that moment, Hermione felt like crying. The two of them were so serious, focused on more of the D.A. style of practice that they had been want to do in fifth year than on Quidditch like normal teenage wizards should be doing. Ron was so focused, she could feel the magic surround him, and she'd only sensed that from him once or twice before.

Charlie saw her first and called her over to them. Sweat had collected on his upper lip and he looked more solidly freckled than ever. Ron practically keeled over with release from the strain, and Harry looked as calm as could be. She quite admired that about him sometimes. Other times, it drove her crazy.

"Want to join us, Hermione?" Ron panted, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Hermione wished that she had changed out of her heavier robe in honour of the unseasonable heat.

"No, just came to collect Harry for rounds. What are you doing back here, anyway?"

"Ron is worried the Slytherins might pull some heat stroke curse from the stands tomorrow, so he asked me," Charlie grinned, "to show him how to take it like a man." Ron made to punch his brother but then relented.

"The trick is to think of the hottest place you've been that you can imagine. Ron's problem, I guess, is that there's a hotter place he's been, but isn't thinking of it."

"Egypt was pretty hot, Charlie."

"Think Hellish hot."

"Snape's dungeon is a lot like Hell, but you know, Hell frozen over."

Charlie shook his head and looked at Hermione. "What about you?"

"Trelawney's classroom," she said.

"I can't think of a nastier place to be stuck," Harry said, looking at Hermione. "That's what I said, too. Egypt is a dry heat. Trelawney's is unbearable with that voodoo stuff flying around and all."

"Though right on the assessment, Harry, I am pretty sure it's the humidity from the tea kettles or something that makes it muggy."

"It's probably the voodoo," the three boys said at once.

Hermione rolled her eyes and motioned for Ron to try again. This time, Hermione thought she saw a look of dread cross his face, quite similar to the one that he wore on his way to Divination. As Charlie muttered the incantation, Hermione saw the air shimmer, like it did over asphalt on a hot summer day. It swept around Ron and shrivelled the plants behind him. Hermione felt as though a hot breeze had shot by, a little woozy herself from the sudden change in humidity. She imagined that a steady stream of that would knock anyone out of the sky.

"Though I would love to stay, I really have to get started on rounds, and that means you, too, Harry. C'mon."

Ron wasn't paying as close attention to Charlie as he should have, and when the heat hit him. Ron's face went white and he crumpled to the ground.

"Charlie! Is that completely safe?" Hermione squeaked, falling to Ron's side.

"Sure it is," he replied nonchalantly, wiping his brow. He pointed his wand at his little brother, and with a quiet _Ennervate_, Ron was blinking and looking about.

"He'll be fine in a minute, and we can do it again. Really, he should be better at this."

"Just don't take out our Keeper for the game tomorrow, Charlie. Our second is nothing compared to him," Harry warned.

Charlie gave him a look that said: _Like I would put Gryffindor's chances of winning in danger._ Ron brushed the two of them away with a weak wave of his hand, and Charlie helped him to his feet. Hermione was satisfied, and started heading back to the castle.

"You'd think that rounds would be a bit complicated tonight, with the sun being the way it is and all," Harry commented as he and Hermione walked through the doors of the Great Hall to the grounds.

"I would imagine so--but I think that the students are tired. The sun just drains energy when it's like this."

There were a couple diehard sunbathers out by the lake, and it took a little convincing that the sun _could _actually cause skin conditions not easily removed by magic. "In fact, Parvati, it's very painful what they do to you at Mungo's." Hermione went on to describe the de-cancering of one's skin, which had to be peeled away very slowly, until new skin grew in its place. Parvati took her towel and her friends and raced to the castle.

Harry and Hermione finished looking around the grounds and went back into the castle. As they walked through the front entrance, they were surprised to see Professor Dumbledore descending the steps. As of late, he had been, they thought, holed up in his office. The students only caught the rare glimpse of him in the Great Hall, taking lunch, and looking much more serious than was his habit.

"Ah, good evening, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. You're just the two people I was wishing to see. Please follow me to my office." There was a twinkle in his eye, as usual, but Harry had a sudden feeling of foreboding.

Hermione shot him a concerned look as the two of them followed the Headmaster back up the stairs. They passed portraits dozing, and the Grey Lady. Professor Dumbledore made small talk with Hermione about what she wanted to do after graduation, and before they knew it, they were in front of his office.

"Would you like to take a stab at the password, Harry?" he asked with a mischievous look, his fuzzy white eyebrows raised high above his half-moon glasses.

Harry, who was much preoccupied with the possible reasons for their being summoned to the Headmaster's office, was caught off-guard. He opened his mouth to guess, but his mind went blank. Hermione looked at him curiously; Professor Dumbledore crossed his arms and smirked.

"Now, Mr. Potter, surely you won't tell me that that was a one-time fluke. Here I was hoping you could get us in my office. In my old age, I can't be counted on to remember it," he teased.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore, no one could say that about you," Hermione breathed, sometimes still in awe of the admired wizard.

"Well, Miss Granger, believe it or not, some still do," he regarded her with some amusement.

Harry, who by then had had a moment to unfreeze his brain, took a guess. "Jelly slugs." Nothing. "Exploding bon-bons." Again, the stone gargoyle did not move.

"You might keep in mind that I, as of late, have had a mind to try new confections, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled, and started rattling off the new candies that Fred and George Weasley had in their new shop. "Ton-Tongue Toffee." "Canary Creams." "Fever Fudge."

The gargoyle started to turn, and Harry knew he had guessed correctly.

"Fever Fudge, Professor? Why would you ever need to use that?" Harry asked, astonished.

"Ah, now, Mr. Potter, you have just stumbled onto one of life's lessons," he leaned conspiratorially toward Harry. "You never know when you might need a good excuse to stay in bed." Dumbledore winked and proceeded up the staircase, Hermione and Harry exchanging amused looks behind him.

Once they were in his office, he offered the pair the wing backed chairs that flanked his desk. Fawkes greeted them softly. Professor Dumbledore did not sit down immediately, but stood, looking at the portraits of previous headmasters, as if he were looking for answers. After what seemed to Harry as five minutes, Dumbledore sat down behind his desk. Suddenly, to Harry, he looked as old as he ever had. He rubbed the bridge of his nose where his half-moon glasses rested, looked out the window, and then turned to the two of them.

"Interesting weather we've been having, wouldn't you say?" At this, Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. Harry could tell Hermione was dying to ask a million questions. Dumbledore chuckled. "Obviously, you have noticed the weather. Miss Granger, what have you found out about continual sunshine below the Arctic Circle? Madam Pince tells me you've been in the library more than your usual. I would be very surprised to find out you had not been trying to get to the bottom of this."

Hermione straightened in her chair, though she was already practically on the edge of her seat from anticipation. It wasn't every day you were called up into the headmaster's office. "Well, Professor, from what I know of the Muggle world and the sources I've read in the library seem to point to the same thing—if this isn't some astronomical imbalance, then it must be caused by something else. My guess is that that something needs a lot of energy, and the sun provides it." She paused. "I wasn't able to find if this had ever happened before, except with the naturally occurring midnight suns in the Arctic Circle, of course."

Professor Dumbledore leaned back and looked at her thoughtfully for a full minute. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He turned his attention to Harry. "Mr. Potter? What is your take on this?"

Harry was surprised that Dumbledore asked his opinion. With Hermione around, people usually took her word as gospel. His mind searched frantically for something intelligent to say.

"Well, er… That is, I suppose that it's not something astronomical, as Firenze and Professor Sinistra haven't said anything…"

"And, you've talked with Firenze about this? I understood that the centaur left shortly after talking with me—before any of this sunshine business started." Dumbledore raised his eyebrow.

Harry could feel the colour rise in his cheeks when Hermione jumped to his defence. "How Harry found out isn't _very_ important, Professor, just that Firenze doesn't know—that's what is material here. That's a big deal that Firenze doesn't know something about the sky."

Harry shot Hermione a grateful look. "My guess is, Professor, that something is causing this occurrence; since no one seems to know anything, I can't say it is good. What happens when the sun goes down? Will it be persisting blackness? Why?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrow again, and then steepled his fingers. "The truth of the matter is, despite the faculty's best efforts, no one knows for sure what is going on, and that is unfortunate. Since we don't know why this is happening, we can't explain it to the students. We don't know what to say, we don't know how to prepare, what we could actually do—nothing. I do believe this is the first time this has happened. I am going to be honest with you, because I value honesty most of all." Here, Dumbledore took a pause, and Harry stole a sideways glance at Hermione. She had gone completely white. He continued, "I don't know what to expect. I do not have a good feeling about what is to come. After the battle at Llandudno, things have been uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, Aurors have enough to keep them somewhat busy. Though some are convalescing, there's nothing. To top it off, this phenomenon is only happening here. Not even in Hogsmeade do they have unusual sun patterns, it's been limited to Hogwarts. The Ministry isn't even overly-concerned. It's as if Hogwarts has been singled out." Here, he got up and went to stroke Fawkes, who closed his eyes with pleasure. He looked out the window, which, on any other day would show dark grounds at 11 pm. Today, however, it featured a hazy, still high-noon scene. "I know Hogwarts is the safest place in all of Britain for our students. It would be foolish to send them away right now, when final exams are around the corner, and we don't even know for certain what is going to happen."

The room was very still as the information sank in. Dumbledore turned away from the window and looked at the two of them. "Tomorrow, I will call all the Prefects to a meeting, with Aurors Dinwiddie and Stockton. I chose to inform you of these circumstances myself. It's best if the Head Boy and Girl are aware. When the sun goes down, every student needs to be inside the building. Even if it's two in the afternoon, they all must be inside. If they can be in their common rooms, that would be ideal." They nodded their heads. "I imagine that since your sixth year, you've not had much need for the Defence Association, is that right, Harry?"

Harry looked at Hermione with surprise. That was the last thing he expected Dumbledore to mention. "Well, sir, since we've had decent Defence instruction since then, no. Though…"

"Go on, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Well, it's just that some of us kept it up, as a hobby of sorts. I've not had much time, what with Quidditch and my Head Boy responsibilities, and all, I know some students who are keen on it. Why do you ask?"

Dumbledore looked affectionately at Harry. "Just like Fever Fudge, some things come in handy from time to time. Now, off you go. You should finish your duties for tonight and be off to bed. It's been a long day." He shooed them away with his hands and sat down to some correspondence. They thanked the headmaster for telling them and left his office.

As they made their way through the building toward the Prefect office and Gryffindor Tower, Hermione tucked her arm through his. She felt Harry stiffen at first, but he relaxed and covered her hand with his other one. They walked along like this for a few minutes until Harry broke the comfortable silence.

"I've never seen Dumbledore like that before."

Hermione sighed. "Neither have I. I don't like the sound of any of this, Harry. I don't like waiting for a solution, or not knowing. I feel quite helpless, really."

"You've not found anything in the library?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. Like I said to Dumbledore, there's _nothing_. I have a few books in the common room I am going to go through tonight, after I finish in the Prefect office, though. Maybe I will find something in there," she finished doubtfully.

Harry moved a tapestry aside, and they stepped through to a hidden staircase. "I didn't find anything particularly telling in any of the zoological books, like we talked about the other day. Just your run-of-the-mill magical creatures, you know. Lethifolds, quintapeds, griffins… I don't know what to look for," he shrugged.

Hermione shook her head, and her curls brushed Harry's sleeve. "This could all be worrying for nothing. There might be a simple reason for this," she said, as much as for herself as for Harry.

They reached the top of the stairs and turned down the left corridor.

"You know it's more than nothing, 'Mione," Harry said quietly.

Hermione met his eyes with as much uncertainty and fear as he was feeling. Harry tore his eyes away and cleared his throat.

"Do you still have your DA galleon?"

"You're thinking of calling everyone back together?" she asked slowly.

"Would it really be calling them back together, though? I know that Ginny and Ron as well as about ten others have kept it up—at varying degrees, of course, but after fifth year, I think they realized it's better to be ready. Maybe just to talk with them, and let them know. We could decide from there. What do you think?"

Hermione pondered this for a moment. "If Dumbledore thinks it could come in handy, like he said, then I think we should. How does after dinner sound?"

"Are you that confident that the Quidditch game will be over by dinner? Last year, a Ravenclaw/Slytherin match lasted until 3 am, if I remember correctly. The last match, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, lasted seven hours! "

They stopped in front of the Prefect office. Hermione smiled. "I'm confident you'll catch the Snitch quickly. You know how I would hate being out in direct sunlight for that long—so you should catch it out of consideration for me."

In spite of the graveness of the evening, her eyes were sparkling. Harry felt very brave. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Is that so?"

Harry was looking at her with that grin of his, and she was certain any second now he was going to kiss her. Her heart was beating wildly, and she fought for control. It wouldn't do to snog him senseless there in the corridor. She squeezed his hands, which somehow he was holding. "It is," she said matter-of-factly. "I'll set the meeting for after dinner, down by the lake, and you," she dropped his hands and poked him in the chest, "need to get some rest if you're going to play well and efficiently tomorrow. I don't want to be in those stands for more than two hours, mister."

Harry laughed softly. "Yes, ma'am."

To Hermione's complete surprise, he kissed her softly on the forehead and turned toward the stairway that would lead him to Gryffindor Tower. "Goodnight, 'Mione!" he called cheerfully over his shoulder.

Hermione couldn't say anything at all.

Hermione made it back into the common room around midnight. Harry must have gotten the rest of the students to bed—she saw Quidditch diagrams strewn about the floor near the fire. Crookshanks jumped down from a windowsill and brushed up against her leg.

She sat down at 'her' table and started with the stack of books she nicked from the library. There wasn't a lot of new information, after a while, all the books seemed to be saying the same thing. However, one book she 'borrowed' from the library had been very helpful. A chapter she had picked explained the history of Muggle solar panels, and how it is a renewable resource. Some of this she recalled from primary school before she came to Hogwarts. Other bits, she found fascinating, and wanted to skip ahead to see how it was used in sea-magic, powering magic carpets and the like, but she paced herself, lest she miss something important.

Suddenly, the words in her book faded into the parchment. Hermione, alarmed, flipped frantically through it, hoping for some text to be left over. "_Ostendere_," she whispered, willing the words to appear. She tried everything she knew, and even referenced to her advanced charms book. Nothing.

She looked at the title page, and this script appeared: _Dear Reader: It seems this book has been taken without proper permission. You have been given the allotted two hours, and now, you must return the book to gain further knowledge. Let this be a lesson to you. _It was signed _Madam Pince_.

Oh! This is what Hermione got for breaking those rules! She never did; she always had the greatest respect for the library, and the _one_ time! The _one _time she disobeyed! "Cut me some slack!" she moaned to the empty room, but nothing changed. She'd just have to sneak it back into the library before the match and borrow it properly, hoping perhaps Madam Pince would let her use it indeterminably.

With that hope, she closed her books, looked for candles to blow out, and realizing there were none as the common room was as bright as day, picked up Crookshanks with an _oof_, and went upstairs to her room.

A few moments later, after having tossed and turned for what seemed to him, a very long time, Harry padded down his dormitory stairs, hoping for some company. The common room looked so bizarre, so bright with all windows shining in the brightest noon-time light and yet not one student there. His heart dropped a little at Hermione not being there, so he walked over to her table and paged through a book about the sun. He didn't know what to make of this sun situation. Really bizarre, actually. He had exhausted all he knew in researching it; he'd even asked the Aurors that evening on his way back from the Prefect office. Dinwiddie had nothing to say that Dumbledore didn't, and Stockton was off the shift, asleep.

Harry picked up a heavier tome, _Sol, Soleil, Sun, Sonne_, and opened to the middle. It was blank. Raising his eyebrow, he flipped through the entire book, finally coming back to the title page. He read the inscription and laughed at the idea of Hermione breaking the rules. Yes, she went out of her way to help Harry and Ron do it, but she never did it for her own direct benefit. Closing the book, he went and sat in front of the cold fireplace, the room was hot enough as it was from the sun. Opening his Quidditch play book, he reviewed the Ravenclaw strategy until he finally got so tired that he went back to bed and fell into a deep sleep, in which he dreamt about an elusive Snitch.

The next morning, Harry was directing his team-mates to _eat_, though he himself wasn't having any breakfast. His team was surprisingly not nervous, even though this game would determine who would play Slytherin in the Quidditch Cup final.

Hermione burst in, took a seat next to Harry and promptly opened the book that he had seen blank the night before. Pouring herself orange juice without looking and not spilling a drop, she turned the page, and then took a drink. Harry shook his head, and turned his attention to Ron, who was still looking kind of peaked from his run-ins with Charlie the night before. He seemed cheery enough, but looked ready to pass out at a moment's notice. Harry wondered if Madam Hooch would let them play without their robes on, but just their gear. He doubted it, but it would be worth the asking.

About twenty minutes later, the entire school traipsed down the grounds to the Quidditch Pitch. Hermione took her spot near the top with her Housemates, which was luckily in the shade. She opened her book and read until the game started.

In the locker room, Harry pulled Ron aside and asked him if he was feeling all right. Ron nodded, but he looked unconvincing to Harry. Harry opened the first aid kit and pulled out a small vial of Pepper-Up Potion. Ron's eyes got wide, and tried to get out of taking it.

"Ron, Nearly Headless Nick has better colour than you. We can't afford to lose you on the Pitch this morning."

Ron hated this stuff. His mother made him take it a lot before Hogwarts. He can remember seeing the steam coming out of his ears, as Fred and George looked on and laughed.

"Harry, it's already so hot today, I don't think I could take any more."

"Ron, either you take it, or we're having Neville play in your place," Harry threatened, though they both knew it was a lie.

Ron eyed the vial, he knew how this was going to turn out, and he knew that Malfoy would be talking about it for days, it being so hot that steam was coming out of his ears. In all honesty, though, he didn't feel so great, and Neville wasn't the best alternative, and he would feel better after a few minutes, and-- "I'll take it for the team, Harry, but you know I hate it."

Harry smiled as Ron's face got red from the potion and steam billowed from his ears.

They heard a whistle blow out on the pitch, so they went out to take their positions. Madam Hooch was in high form. She did love a good game of Quidditch, and the conditions today were perfect. No wind, no clouds, everything was ideal.

"On my mark," she yelled over the crowd, which had started to yell in excitement. She blew the whistle, and the Quaffle was thrown up. Fifteen people flew to the skies and a vigorous game began. Harry loved that his Chasers worked like a well-oiled machine. Ron, thanks to the Pepper-Up Potion, was looking sharp down at their end of the field. The Beaters, Telemachus and Dennis, were top notch, as well. He was satisfied and began his search for the Snitch.

It was bright outside, without a trace of cloud. It was hazy, as there wasn't a breeze to carry the air around. Glimmers started appearing as silver wings to Harry. Bradie Thomas, the Ravenclaw Captain and Seeker zoomed past him on her Cleansweep.

"And Thomas takes a dive! Does she see the Snitch?" Lisette Jordan called out over the crowd. "Potter follows close behind, but--oh, nope, Quidditch fans, it was a fake." The crowd voiced their disappointment. Thomas pulled out of her dive and soared above the Ravenclaw stands.

That was all good and proper to rally your House for the game, but Harry didn't need to do that for the Gryffindors. They were excited in the first place. Unauthorized betting was going on in the stands at that very instant, on how long, exactly, it would take Harry Potter to get the Snitch, how many goals Ron would block versus let in, and how many Ravenclaws the Beaters could knock out of the sky.

"And, Johnson sneaks around King for the goal! Gryffindor 50, Ravenclaw 20!"

Harry flew high above the game to get a better look of the field. Everything seemed to be in slow motion below--and Harry cringed as a Ravenclaw Beater was clipped by a Bludger. He started to get desperate for the Snitch. His gear, which Madam Hooch had declined to let them remove for fear that they'd get injured, was heavy. He was drenched in sweat, and all he wanted was a nice, tall glass of pumpkin juice. He looked around at the stands, trying to find the Snitch, weaving in and out of the spectators. Nothing.

One Ravenclaw Chaser dropped suddenly, like a leaf falling from a tree. He wafted in the air, seesawing from side to side until he dropped peacefully onto the ground. "And Nory takes a fall!" Lisette yelled. "Looks like the heat was getting to him. Madam Hooch, what's the verdict?" Madam Hooch called a time out, as she and the Captain sped over to the boy. The other twelve hung in the air as they awaited his fate. The way he had fallen suggested that he was losing consciousness, and his broom had taken him softly down. Harry had only ever had the luck of _falling_ off his broom to the ground. He'd never gotten to try out that safety device. "It looks like heat exhaustion, folks! Make sure you there in the stands keep hydrated! This heat is killer!"

Harry was taking the extra time to find the Snitch, when he saw a uniform float to the ground. It was then that he realized it was the same feeling he had the day before, when Ron dropped his shirt to the field. He shrugged the feeling away. There was no body accompanying the uniform, and Harry looked around to see who had stripped down. It was Ron again, who was affected by the stagnant air. Harry pitied him, because Keepers didn't get as much flying freedom as the rest of the team. The female students, on the other hand, were cheering him on. Lisette's voice rang out over the crowd: "And, Keeper Ron Weasley gives us another reason to watch Quidditch! Flex for us, Ron, come on!"

"Jordan!"

Lisette ignored Professor McGonagall and joined the female population in admiration as Ron flexed in his undershirt and circled the goal posts.

Madam Hooch, who had the Ravenclaw Chaser taken off the field, was resuming her position in the air. Madam Hooch was about to blow her whistle when she saw Ron. She pointed. "Ten points to Ravenclaw team, under-attire penalty to Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor team looked back and forth between each other, while Harry shrugged. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. The crowd was mixed with cheers and jeers and playing resumed.

"Madam Hooch blows the whistle, and we have Gryffindor 50, Ravenclaw 30, thanks to that handsome Keeper--I mean, penalty."

Ron and Harry locked gazes across the field, Ron looked a bit repentant. Suddenly, it hit Harry, that if he weren't careful, he'd be falling out of the sky due to the heat as well. He whistled to his team and motioned for them to take off their gear if they wanted. He loosened his cloak, untied his shin guards and dropped his shoulder gear. They flitted to the ground, and again, Madam Hooch blew a penalty whistle, and Harry let his hand gear drop. Ron gave a whoop from the goal posts.

"Ravenclaw awarded _sixty_ points as Gryffindor gives us repeat performances. What is this, a sport, or a strip show?"

"Jordan... "

"All right, Professor! Sixty for Ravenclaw! 50 to 90! And the Quaffle goes out to Gryffindor!"

Harry was receiving dirty looks from his Housemates, he noticed, for allowing sixty points to be gained in one motion. He gave about two seconds' thought to that, but then he saw the Snitch. It was circling near Thomas' foot, though she didn't it. Harry tried to fly inconspicuously toward her, so as not to have her see it and catch it herself. As he approached her, he was broadsided by Cooper, a Ravenclaw Beater, and whacked in the arm with her bat. Without his shoulder gear on, pain shot through his shoulder and made his whole arm throb. Several people saw this in the stands and called for a foul, but Madam Hooch neither saw it nor cared. What she was paying attention to was the fact that Cooper decided that it was the appropriate moment to pass out from heat exhaustion as well. Harry tried to right her on her broom, but she flitted to the ground like confetti. That put Gryffindor at a gross advantage.

"Beater Magda Cooper takes her leave, ladies and gents, and it's a hold in the match. Potter calls a time out. Forty-five seconds to Gryffindor."

Harry and the rest of the team landed softly on the field and they formed a huddle.

"Harry, you've got to get that Snitch, we're dying up there," Telly Clearwater decided to inform him. Several others nodded in response.

"Look," Harry sighed, "we've all got our own responsibilities out there." Harry turned to Ron. "You feeling all right, mate?"

"Yeah, it's really breezy where I am."

The team stared blankly at him.

"All right, so I made that up, but I am feeling better with my robes off, it's like I'm wearing nothing at all."

Dennis Creevey leaned over to Ron and said, "You know, I always wanted to play Co-ed Naked Quidditch." He waggled his eyebrows at the girls.

Ellen Johnson hit him with her broomstick.

Ron whispered conspiratorially, "Yeah, I hear they play it with big--ow!" He was cut off by Amy stepping on his foot.

"Cut it out, we don't have much time," she hissed.

Harry nodded in agreement. "As long as you all don't mind the penalties about the robes, guys. I know I'm going to hear about it later."

"Well, we'll certainly make up for it, now that they're short two players," Ellen said.

"That's what I want to know. This isn't even; it's not fair. I propose two players step down," Harry said, looking at the ground.

_"What?"_ the three Chasers screeched, and crossed their arms.

"It's just that it seems so unfair. They're following the rules, really, and dropping out not of their own will," Harry said quietly. "I'm willing to forfeit my position."

"You can't do that!" Ron cried. "I should go! You can defend without a Keeper, but we can't win without a Seeker."

"This is all ridiculous," Anita said venomously. "There is no reason, and nothing that says we would be ignoble if we played as seven. The rules say nothing about shortening both teams."

"We can do it," Ron said slowly. "You have to start with seven, but you don't have to finish with seven."

"Slaughtering them can't bring sweet victory if Slytherin keeps saying we had an unfair advantage," Ellen remarked.

"What would happen if one of us passes out? I can't be sure that I won't," Amy added.

"We shouldn't base this off of Slytherin," Dennis countered Ellen.

The whistle blew to signal them back to the field.

"Thirty more seconds, please, Madam Hooch," Harry called, and she surprisingly complied.

"Well, we don't have to do it," Harry started, "I just thought..."

"I think we should do it," Ron said. "I'll go."

"No," Anita spat impatiently. "You _can't_ go. We need you to defend. I'll sit out."

Everyone turned to her, surprised by her response.

"I'll go, too, then it will be even," Telly said. "But, I don't like it, Harry, I just don't like it. They're already ahead of us."

Harry nodded. "I'll get the Snitch, you know I will." He straightened his shoulders. "That's it then."

Madam Hooch blew her whistle impatiently, and the five remaining Gryffindors took to the sky. There was a definite sentiment of unhappiness among the Gryffindors as they counted their team members, and a definite cheering among the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. To no one's surprise, the Slytherins were impossible to satisfy.

Harry had played like this during his visits to the Burrow. No gear and definitely not enough players to fill the positions. Of course, they had played with one less Bludger, of which Harry was reminded as one whistled by his left knee. As he looked to the Beaters, they had their work cut out for them, rather than four bats to two Bludgers; it was every man for himself. Harry didn't think this match was going to last long, especially in this heat. The players would just be eliminated by natural selection.

As it turned out, Harry thought wrong. The Quidditch game went on in that fashion for another two hours, the sun still at its zenith, Ron's skin the same colour as his hair, and Lisette Jordan was still going strong with her commentary. In the stands, students were casting shade and breeze charms, but they still looked swamped from the heat.

The score was 170-210 in Gryffindor's favour, but the Snitch still had to be caught. Harry was exhausted, and he thought he was going to lose his vision from the brightness of the sun. For the one thousandth time since the game started, he circled the pitch, searching high and low for the blasted Snitch. Bradie Thomas looked as though she were sleep-flying, as the heat had taken all their energy. Harry switched his attention to Ron, where he saw his friend faring pretty well; the Ravenclaw Chasers were slowing down, allowing him to conserve his energy.

It was at that moment when Harry finally saw the Snitch. His gut feeling told him that this—_this_—was going to be the time he would catch it. No more false alarms or false glimpses. It was hovering above the tallest goal post on the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. As Harry kept his eye on it, and trying not to fly as to attract the attention of the crowd, much less of Bradie, it disappeared.

Or so he thought. It started to circle the hoop, making it nearly impossible to see. As he closed in on it, the crowd caught on, and the excited hum of the Gryffindors buzzed in Harry's ears. He could feel the brush of it between his fingertips, and then the Snitch dove. It was spinning around the post, plunging to the ground. The crowd rose to their feet, in as much excitement for the game as the thought of getting out of the sun. They roared with anticipation, Harry became as much of a blur as the Snitch, the termination of the Quidditch match a finger's length away.

Harry realised that the ground was fast approaching, and just as he decided he had better abandon the plunge, his hand grasped the fluttering wings of the Golden Snitch and barely pulled out of the dive. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the crowd cheered in instant gratification, but that cry was sucked away with a gasp of surprise, as his Snitch hand was smashed with a Bludger. He dropped the Snitch and tumbled to the soft green of the field. Bradie Thomas, who was right behind Harry for the last part of his dive, followed up and caught the Snitch before it could fly off. She landed with the rest of her team, who acknowledged the loss and stood to the side while Harry slowly got up.

"Gryffindor wins! 360-170!" Madam Hooch called the match and landed near Harry. Ron and the rest of the team gathered around as Harry shakily got up, his right hand pulverised. Madam Hooch started to lecture the team about the dangers of not having proper protective gear and the obvious consequences. "Potter," she cried, exasperated, "if you had kept your gear on, your wrist shields would have protected…" Madam Hooch continued along that thread, but Harry heard her not. Ron helped steady him on his feet, congratulating him on his catch.

But, when Harry took a few steps, pain shot through his arm, and then he ventured a look at his hand. It was as though he didn't have bones at all; his fingers, which were dripping blood, looked oddly jointed. When he tried to move it, he found that he couldn't turn his wrist, which was no surprise, as it was swelling up to the size of the Bludger that hit it. People were pressing all around him, trying to congratulate the team, and the heat was oppressive. He felt a wave of nausea weep over him, and if it weren't for Ron holding him on his other side, he would have fallen over. He vaguely heard Madam Hooch over the crowd saying something about the hospital wing.

Hermione burst through the crowd and nearly collided with Ron.

"You were excellent, Ron, Harry!" She took one look at Harry's face and nearly fainted away herself. "Oh, Ron, we have to get him to Madam Pomfrey!" She went around to his other side, and tried to support him, but when she placed his injured arm around her shoulder, Harry groaned in pain and _did_ pass out. Ron barely caught him in time, which kept him from being trampled by the well-wishers.

"_Mobilicorpus,"_ Madam Hooch ordered, and Harry was instantly levitated. As she started taking him to the castle, Hermione hid her face in Ron's shoulder as he watched his friend make his second journey of the year up the hill unconscious.

To be continued… Sooner rather than later.


End file.
